For The Moments I Feel Forgotten
by CarlieD
Summary: AU on OotP and HBP. The Order had gone to retrieve Harry that night – there was only one small problem: Harry wasn’t there. Though the Order didn’t know it, Harry had been badly beaten by his uncle and cousin and left for dead in a dark ditch.
1. Prologue

**FOR THE MOMENTS I FEEL FORGOTTEN**

_AU on OotP and HBP. The Order had gone to retrieve Harry that night – there was only one small problem: Harry wasn't there. Though the Order didn't know it, Harry had been badly beaten by his uncle and cousin and left for dead in a dark ditch. The Muggle doctors and social workers decided he was an unfortunate victim of a dangerous cult, and sent him into protective custody. Now Harry's trying to leave, and the Muggles keep thwarting him at every attempt, bringing him farther from the wizarding world and deeper into a depression. The Order is desperate to find him before the Death-Eaters do, but each time they manage to track him down, the Muggles move him. How will this drama end?_

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of J.K. Rowling's wonderful works.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

"Hey, you're back early," Ron commented as he and Hermione appeared at the top of the stairs. "Where's Harry?"

Remus waved him off irritably. "Not right now, Ron. Where's – " His question was cut off abruptly by Sirius emerging from the kitchen. Immediately, the rather noisy main floor fell silent. "Ah. There's Sirius."

"Yeah, here's Sirius. Where's Harry?" Sirius asked him bluntly.

"That seems to be the question of the night," Tonks said under her breath.

"What was that?" Sirius asked dangerously, eyes narrowing in Remus' direction. Much as everybody knew that Remus wasn't solely responsible for bringing Harry safely back, they also knew that Sirius counted on Remus to act in his place, and if Remus failed to perform the task set for him, it was a failure by Sirius as well. And Sirius didn't do very well with failure.

Remus sighed, preparing himself for the fireworks. "He's not at his aunt and uncle's house, Sirius. We can't find him."

He could already see the anger simmering away in Sirius' steely grey eyes. "What do you mean, he's not there?" Sirius asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean, he's not in the house. Nor anywhere within ten blocks," Remus replied testily.

"He wouldn't… leave on his own, would he?" Ron asked Hermione uncertainly as the two teens joined the group downstairs. "Not after he got told twice to stay where he was…"

"Well, who really knows what was going on down there that evening?" Hermione asked, though her voice betrayed a degree of uncertainty. "And he's bound to be a little irritated at us right now. He probably told Hedwig to peck us until we told him what he wanted to know." She rubbed her sore hands ruefully. "And the Ministry sending him those owls about wand-snapping and expulsion wouldn't have helped the matter any."

"I don't think he took off," Remus said quietly, "because all of his things are still in the house. Didn't take his wand, didn't take his Cloak, didn't take his broom, didn't take money…"

"Well, what happened, then?" Sirius asked in a low voice that was far too calm given the situation.


	2. My Name Is Harry

**CHAPTER 1: MY NAME IS HARRY**

Harry tried again to sit up and argue with the nurse who had just walked in. "Really, ma'am, I'm fine! Look, see, sitting up and everything! I don't really need to be here, can't you let me go?"

The nurse glowered at him. "You, young sir, aren't going anywhere. You have a broken wrist, crushed hand, arm and leg broken in three places apiece, a cracked skull, broken ribs, sprained ankle, a cracked vertebrae and a very unsatisfactory explanation. I've seen fatal car crashes with less damage." She paused and glared at him commandingly. "Now lie back down before you add a punctured lung to that list."

Harry was strongly reminded of both Mrs. Weasley and Madam Pomfrey, and wisely lay down before he got knocked around some more. Sirius wouldn't let him stay here, writhing in pain because the Muggle medicine was virtually useless after years of magical medicine. Sirius would come and rescue him – or the Weasleys. Yes, that was it. Fred and George and Ron would show up again!

But how would he get out of a hospital without being noticed? He could barely sit up unsupported, let alone walk. A thrice-broken leg and a sprained ankle… the stupid nurse was right: he wasn't going anywhere.

"Now, what was your name again, dear?" the nurse asked, a little more gently as she straightened out his pillows and his blankets. "Take your pain pills."

"Harry," he replied, swallowing the useless pills. "My name is Harry."

The nurse sighed. "You couldn't possibly have a more common name. Where can we get a hold of your parents?"

"Try the afterlife," Harry replied, somewhat snidely. "They died when I was a year old."

"Your guardians, then," she said in exasperation.

"I don't really have any," he mumbled. No use in giving her the Dursleys' names, they'd deny it after all that had happened. They wouldn't be able to locate the Weasleys, or Lupin, or Dumbledore. He certainly wasn't about to give them Sirius' name – not only did he not have a fixed address, but the Muggles thought he was just as much of a murderer as the wizards.

"You're from one of the orphanages, then?" the nurse asked briskly. That wasn't good: far too many teenagers ran away from orphanages every day, and most places were second-rate. Even the best among them could scarce keep track of all their runaways. And with such a common name, how could they possibly identify who he was?

"No," Harry said.

Sighing, the nurse found a sheaf of papers in the side table, setting them down in front of Harry. "Since you refuse to cooperate and give us your guardian's name, you can fill these out yourself, then."

Harry looked at her blankly. "How am I supposed to write with these?" he asked, nodding towards his casted, bandaged and sling-supported hands.

"Ah, yes, that does create a problem, doesn't it?" the nurse replied. "Very well, then. I ask, you answer." She uncapped the pen. "Full name."

"Harry James," he said. He wasn't going to give her his true surname, he was powerless against Death-Eaters or Voldemort if they somehow found out that he was injured and away from the protection of Privet Drive. He wasn't completely lying: James was part of his full name, he had just neglected to mention that it wasn't his surname.

The nurse sighed – she'd been really hoping for a more unusual surname. There were doubtlessly dozens of Harry Jameses in Surrey, assuming he was even born in Surrey.

"Date of birth?"

"July 31, 1980," he replied reluctantly. The nurse looked at him carefully – that'd make him barely 15. He could pass for 15, though she thought he was more likely 13 or 14. He really was only a little more than a boy…

"Medical number."

"I… don't think I have one," Harry said. He fixed his eyes quickly on the floor to avoid seeing her disbelieving stare. Did he have one? She would certainly go searching for his birth record now that she had his 'name' and birthdate, but she probably wouldn't find anything.

"Very well. Address."

Harry paused again. The Dursleys had kicked him out. He didn't know that the Burrow or Hogwarts could even be found by Muggles. He didn't have a clue where Lupin lived. Sirius had no fixed address. Finally, he said, "I don't know."

What kind of 15-year-old didn't know his own address, the nurse wondered as she left that blank too. "Town or city, at least?"

"I don't know," Harry repeated, reddening as she stared at him.

She closed one folder of papers and opened another. "Who beat you?" she asked briskly.

Ah, yes, the million-dollar question. "I don't remember," Harry lied, not exactly knowing why he was bothering to protect the Dursleys. It wasn't as though he felt anything but animosity towards them. "I don't remember much about that night," he repeated.

"Who's Cedric?"

Immediately, the nurse saw a serious change in demeanour. Whereas for the last few days, Harry had been lethargic, moody and secretive, as soon as she pronounced the name 'Cedric', Harry became alert, wary as he asked, "Why?"

"You've been muttering in your sleep," the nurse said. "Is he a brother, a friend?"

Harry shook his head. "Just a guy I knew from… somewhere," he said evasively. "He was killed in June."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she told him gently. "An accident?"

"No, he was murdered," Harry replied dully, his eyes going strangely blank.

* * *

The Child Protection Services agent threw the folders onto the table in frustration. "He's obviously lying about something," she announced. "We can't find anything on him. Anywhere. No birth record, no baptismal certificate, no guardianship appointment, no records with CPS, no nothing. The lad doesn't exist!"

"Could he potentially be from the cult colony outside town?" one police officer asked quietly. "They keep to themselves for everything."

"That could explain there not being a birth record," another agreed.

"And why he doesn't know where he lives," a third added. "They're just a fenced-off compound about ten miles out of town. There's no signs, no markage, nothing."

"It would explain him not having guardians," one nurse said. "The children are likely being communally cared for, not really being attached to a specific person."

"And he won't say who beat him because he's scared they'll come back to finish him off," a second nurse continued. "Ellen, what do you think?"

The resident psychiatrist looked up from her notes. "I think that there may be something to this cult theory. Talking in one's sleep is often indicative of emotional turmoil. And the things he's saying… it sounds like somebody's being killed. And there are other comments in his sleep that sound out-of-place in a normal setting."

The nurses nodded. "He keeps muttering about a Lord Voldemort returning," one said.

"Could be the leader," the cult specialist from the police forces spoke up. "We don't know diddly-squat about this cult, nobody's ever left. Any attempts to infiltrate have failed. The leaders of cults often take on images of grandeur, titles that reflect their supreme power – the use of the title 'Lord' would fit in with that."

"He's been calling for Sirius," another nurse said. "Saying that Sirius will rescue him."

"Sirius?" the CPS agent asked. "Isn't that a constellation?"

"Good Lord, the boy's praying to stars," one police officer muttered.

"That could be a part of the cult's spirituality rituals," the cult specialist said. "Spirit guides or spirit guardians in the stars."

"Last night, he was saying something about never bowing to somebody," a nurse said.

"I think I've got the story now," the cult specialist said, making a few more notes. "Now, Harry was more than likely born into this cult. Somewhere in his first year of life, his parents died – or are killed. Maybe they tried to escape the cult, take him away. Maybe they were ill. We don't know anything about that. They fail at escape, if that's the case; in any case they die and Harry continues to be raised in the cult. For whatever reason, the leader, this Lord Voldemort, leaves the compound – possibly to start a new colony somewhere. However, he returns. The likely situation is that all those old enough to be true 'followers' were asked to attend a congregational. They bowed, yet Harry, for whatever reason, refuses to bow. Maybe this Cedric he's mentioned does the same thing. The leader gets angry – Cedric dies, possibly on the compound. Why Harry was dumped in a ditch nine miles away is uncertain. Perhaps the leader didn't want him tainting any other followers."

"What about the scars?" one nurse asked. "He's got some rather strange scars. The lightning bolt on his forehead… that's not from a normal, innocent injury. It's too neat, too clean. The new gouge in his arm, the older one on his shoulder…"

"Possibly some sort of ritual?" one officer suggested. "Blood sacrifice?" he looked at his counterpart.

The cult specialist shrugged. "It's likely. I think that the one on his forehead is different. I think it's a marking of some kind. It's too specifically recognizable – why not just slash his head, if it was only for a ritual? Maybe he was supposed to be some sort of special child, some kind of 'set-apart'? Maybe a successor to Lord Voldemort…"

"That would definitely explain the brutality of his beating," one officer commented.

"So what are we supposed to do with him?" a nurse asked. "We can't just release him."

"CPS is going to take him," the CPS agent spoke up. "He's still a minor. We can't do anything else besides try to integrate him into normal society."

* * *

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up in a flash and wincing at the sharp pain spreading through his torso. "No! You can't… you can't do that!"

"I'm afraid I can, Harry," the CPS agent said, giving him a kindly, reassuring smile – as if he were some small child who had been traumatized and needed to be handled gently lest he break. "You're still underage."

"You can't force me anywhere!" Harry continued indignantly. "I'm not a small child, you know."

"You may be, that's right, but you're still not an adult, Harry," the CPS agent continued in that same maddening, sickly-sweet tone. "Until you're 18, you have to be under our custody. There's no two ways around it."

"But that's three years!" Harry exploded. "I can't… no! Can't you lot just leave me alone? I want to go home!" But even as those words escaped his mouth, it struck him: he didn't have a home. He had never had a home.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you can't go home."


	3. The Sampsons

**CHAPTER 2: THE SAMPSONS**

Harry was still in far too much pain the next morning to bother fighting as the CPS agent signed him out ("Have a nice day, Ms. Colton!"), handed him a pile of clean, new clothes ("You didn't think those rags you had on were leaving with you, did you? No, no, Don and Anne are getting you a whole new wardrobe…") and somehow managed to push, pull and drag him into her car.

"So, Harry," Ms. Colton said easily as she zipped down another side street, "I know that this must all be very new for you. The Sampsons are very used to, ah, difficult cases, and they'll be working very hard to help you adjust, but I expect you to be doing your part as well."

'Yeah, I'll be doing my part,' Harry thought sarcastically to himself, glaring out the window, 'to get away from there. Get back to school, where I belong.'

* * *

"Don, Anne, this is Harry," Ms. Colton said to the older couple once inside the house. "Harry, this is Don and Anne Sampson."

Harry gave them a cursory nod in greeting, feeling a little like Snape.

"Now, I'll drop by again in a fortnight to see how it went," Ms. Colton continued cheerily. "I expect you'll have started school by that point, too, and I'll want to hear all about it."

With that, she left, leaving Harry standing alone in front of the older couple, his one free hand shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt. It was so weird, to be wearing clothes that actually fit. He had to fight to keep himself from squirming, used to the vast amount of space he usually had in his hand-me-downs from Dudley and his school robes.

"Well, come on, then," Don finally said. "We'll show you your bedroom, and then we'll head out to the mall. Anne is itching to buy you new clothes. She's a shop-a-holic," he added confidentially to Harry, rolling his eyes.

"I've never had to buy teenage boys' clothes before, I'm rather looking forward to it," Anne said cheerfully.

"Fine," Harry muttered, though inside he was screaming for joy. A mall? Perfect! Plenty of people, crowds galore – he could slip away and nobody would be any the wiser. He could find a deserted alley nearby, call up the Knight Bus (didn't know how he was going to do that without a wand, though)… hopefully they'd take an honor payment… go to Diagon Alley, find the Weasleys from there. Maybe somehow he could get his stuff from Privet Drive – or would they have burnt it all already, eager to get all trace of him out of their lives?

In his mind's eye, he saw Uncle Vernon feeding his most prized possessions to a fire. His wand. His beloved Firebolt – the national-standard broom that probably cost a small fortune and his very first present from Sirius. His Invisibility Cloak – one of the only things he had that remained of his father, and not an easy item to come across either. The Marauders' Map – the map of Hogwarts that his father, his godfather and their friends had created in their teenage years and that he had managed to retrieve from the imposter Moody in June. His picture album…

At the thought of the only pictures he had of his parents going up in flames, Harry's insides burned with rage. If the Dursleys dared even touch that, they would pay, and if he wound up in Azkaban because of it, he didn't care.

* * *

As it turned out, 'the mall' was a tiny little strip mall nearby, nearly empty, with no alleys, no bus stops. Just wide open spaces. Great, not even a cranny to hide in. There went that escape plan. Don and Anne had evidently been warned that he was a flight risk.

So Harry grudgingly dragged himself along behind Don and Anne, who was chatting with some of the young shop workers as though she had known them all her life. It was a very long four hours before she had poked and prodded Harry into trying the clothes, having finally engaged the help of one chipper teenage clerk to find the current 'in' fashions since Harry refused to give an opinion. "Whatever," he muttered, free hand shoved in his pocket.

"Make sure you go with greens and browns, they'll really bring out his eyes," the girl – _Melody! :-)_, her nametag said – said to Anne as she passed more clothes to the woman for inspection. "Reds and golds will contrast nicely with his hair, not to mention warm up his skin tone a bit."

Now that, Harry was slightly more content with, as they were his house colours.

"I'd stay away from cool colours – whites, blues, silvers. They'll just make him look like a Popsicle. A few blacks, but not too much, he's got enough black in his hair and it'll pale him up horribly. Any questions?" she finished. She had been eyeing Harry with great interest ever since they had walked in the shop, and he was beginning to resent it – he wasn't a museum artifact, after all! Just because he had about as many casts and bandages on him as a mummy… no reason to stare at him. The doctors had put a metal rod in his broken leg, in his broken arm (which was still in a sling; he was supposed to be using a walking stick to alleviate pressure on his metal-rodded leg, but what did they think he was going to hold the stupid thing with, his crushed hand?), so he'd been slowly limping around all day.

"What about outerwear? Jackets?" Anne asked, and Melody's eyes lit up.

Don stifled a groan and Harry resigned himself to another three hours of trying on things he really had no interest in.

"All the boys are wearing leather jackets now, it's all the rage. Very masculine, you see, makes them look and feel tough," Melody chattered away.

_

* * *

_

A leather-encased arm slammed him against the floor, Dudley's formidable weight cutting off both his air and his circulation as he held him down with a knee in his chest. Struggling, Harry tried to fight back, but with his extremities losing their supply of blood, it was a futile task.

* * *

"This one's not too expensive, looks quite nice. I've seen a lot of the boys in my secondary wearing this lately…"

"No," Harry spoke up suddenly, the first real opinion he'd offered yet on this stupid trip. Startled, Don and Anne both turned to look at him, while Melody looked crestfallen at the rejection of one of her suggestions. Feeling a little stared-at, he mumbled, "Don't like leather," and flushed, fixing his gaze at the floor.

"All right, then," Melody said uneasily. Then she seemed to shrug it off and continued in the next row, "Then a good second would be the pressed wool, they're still quite fashionable, but it's only a select few boys who will be caught dead in it, pressed wool's really a girl's material nowadays, but…"

* * *

Harry stared blankly out the window at the quiet suburban street. A few teenage boys were playing broomball out in the street, a few little girls were skipping rope down at the end of the block, but other than that, there really was no activity.

This was ridiculous. Why didn't anybody notice he was gone from Privet Drive yet?

_Because Dumbledore keeps you locked up all the time, you stupid boy, on summers!_, the embittered, sullen teenager in him snapped. _Nobody ever sees you until either they see fit to get you or you take off._

_Maybe they HAVE noticed I'm missing,_ the hopeful, naïve teenager in him countered. _Maybe they ARE looking for me – didn't Hermione say that we'd be seeing each other quite soon in my birthday card last week? But I'm not even in Surrey anymore, how will they be able to find me? Will they think to try the hospitals?_

_You stupid boy!,_ the embittered Harry growled again._ You think they CARE about what happens to you? Where were they when the Dementors were attacking you and Dudley on Wisteria Walk, huh? Where were they when Uncle Vernon and Dudley were beating you to death? WHERE WERE THEY THEN?! Face it, Harry Potter, you're alone. You've always been alone. You're always going to be alone. Not even Sirius is coming this time._

_But Sirius has always come,_ the naïve Harry persisted. _Sirius has never let me down before. Didn't he come back into England last year to be near me when I was freaking out about the Triwizard and my scar pain? Didn't he come back into Hogwarts, risking his own life, to stay with me after the third Triwizard task? Didn't he stay right there the whole night? Hasn't he been writing me all summer, reassuring me that I won't be forgotten?_

_So where is Sirius now, then, idiot child?,_ Embittered Harry demanded angrily. _Why are you here and not with him? Answer THAT if you can!_

Harry bit his lip, wincing as he pressed down on the healing split. Where was Sirius? If he'd ever needed his godfather, now was the time. He didn't want to listen to the two Harrys arguing anymore.

* * *

The beginning of the school term was quickly approaching, and Harry panicked every time he thought about it. He had missed his disciplinary hearing, he was as good as expelled from Hogwarts now. He was supposed to be starting second year secondary next week, at the local public high school, Sir Arthur of Trebald Secondary, and his insides froze whenever the thought that he was at least four years behind his peers struck him.

Not to mention that he hadn't been that strong a student in primary either – he probably should've repeated first form once or twice, just because of his abominable maths. The teachers simply kept giving him a pass grade and moving him along. By third form, he was completely bewildered by everything except language arts and really, who could be bewildered by that?

So he was still at a lower primary level, and he was supposed to just waltz into second year secondary courses in a week? Harry contemplated every possible way to get out of it, and none seemed to be viable. He seriously considered throwing himself off a bridge, but then decided that it was maybe too permanent a solution to the temporary problem.

On the night before the beginning of term, they were eating dinner when Anne asked, "So, Harry, are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Hmph," Harry replied neutrally; he was still upset at missing his disciplinary hearing – had tried to throw a few things around his bedroom when he had realized that, but discovered that the only throwable things were bolted down. Evidently he wasn't the first angry foster child to have tried to throw things in the Sampson house.

"I know it'll be a trial," Anne continued, seeming not to hear Harry's lack of enthusiasm. "After all, the other students have already known each other for at least a year. But you'll settle into the routine quickly enough, and you'll make friends sooner than you might believe."

"Hmph."

"Can I get a real response, please, Harry, not a grunted syllable?"

"Whatever," Harry muttered, getting up from his untouched dinner and limping out.

* * *

This school was about ten times bigger than even Hogwarts, which was a formidable size itself. And he had maths first, too. Great. This day was starting off wonderfully.

The only good part, Harry mused as he resisted the urge to kick his locker door in frustration at the impossible spin-dial lock (really, how did they expect him to get that worked out with both hands incapacitated?), was that nobody really was staring at him here. He was just another face in the crowds of faces. A somewhat mangled face, true, but a face nonetheless.

"Oh, you!" came a somewhat familiar chirpy voice from beside him. He turned to see the Melody girl from the clothing shop. Internally, he groaned. She was going to be his Muggle Colin and Dennis Creevey, he could already tell. "Do you need some help? Of course you do, what am I saying, you can't use your hands, can you? Of course you can't." She took his combination from him and deftly spun the lock right, left, right again and opened it. "I'm Melody Nighthammer, by the way. If I'm talking too much, let me know. My mother says I talk too much, but I find it just so easy to do…"

"Hmph." Harry tuned her out and managed, with a little difficulty, to hoist his schoolbag back onto his shoulder, then somehow succeeded in closing the locker she had just finished opening and went limping off towards maths. Might as well just take everything with him, there was no telling if somebody would help him out later on.

Room 341. Where was 341? Harry passed Room 134, 136, 138, and then realized he was at the end of the hallway. Maybe the first number indicated the floor? Third floor classroom?

Harry cast a doubtful glance at the crowded, steep, narrow stairwell. No way was he getting up that, not with his stupid legs. Oh, why was he even bothering to be here? He ought to just leave right now. If he started towards the entrance now, he might actually make it off school property by 3:30.

"Mr. James, I presume?" came a voice from behind him. Harry bit back the urge to yell and whirled around, to see an impressive middle-aged man dressed in an impeccable suit. Likely the headmaster. He was accompanied by a boy about Harry's age, who seemed to be sizing him up. He reminded him of a cross between Neville and Malfoy: rather plump, but with a sneering, confident face that told Harry that he was obviously one of the 'in' students here.

"Yessir," Harry replied in a sheepish mumble once he had recollected his nerves and remembered that he had given his name as Harry James, not Harry Potter.

"Mr. Evanston, I'm the principal here at Sir Arthur. This is Anthony Artecas, he's going to be helping you out for the first few weeks. Your foster parents said you're supposed to have the sling and cast taken away in three weeks?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He nodded a greeting in Anthony's general direction.

"Now, Mr. Artecas, I believe you two young men are due in maths," Evanston said, leaving the two boys alone.

"So you got a given name, James?" Anthony asked abruptly. "C'mon, we're supposed to use the lift, and it's at the clear other end of the bleeding school. And I'm not making myself late to classes because of you. I'm only doing this because it's part of my duties as a student council member to help out new students."

Yep. Definitely a Muggle Malfoy. Harry glowered at him. "Harry," he finally said coolly, "And you don't have to hang around, I'm perfectly capable of getting my own self to a class."

"Fine," Anthony replied in an equally cool tone, and he immediately tore off towards the stairs again.

* * *

Harry somehow managed to work his way through the crowds (by imagining them all as Chasers, Beaters and Bludgers he had to avoid to catch the Quidditch-Cup-winning Snitch, which was maths class). He got inside and collapsed in relief into the nearest chair, dropping his schoolbag to the floor. This was not going to be fun.

The teacher walked in. It was an older woman, carrying a huge stack of books and papers. Another student staggered in behind her, carrying another huge stack of books. "Good morning, and welcome to Mathematical Concepts I," she said briskly. "Some of you may have had me for Introduction to Mathematical Concepts last year, but for those who didn't, I am Ms. Arnette. Now, when I call your name, please raise your hand so I can see where you are. Janet Adams. Olivia Arnold. Anthony Artecas. Nathan Azariah. Aylmer Barnabas. Gregory Beechum…"

Harry started to doze off after Gregory Beechum and the list slowly dwindled through the Bs, Cs, Ds… there must've been about fifty students in this class, and he was pretty darn close to the end of the alphabet.

"Harry James," she called, looking around. "Harry James, present?"

Harry jumped back to attention. "Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Hand, please, Mr. James, my hearing's rather finicky."

Harry grumbled under his breath. His shoulder had been throbbing all day from an infection that had set in his crushed hand and was spreading through his arm. Anne was shoving horse-pill-sized antibiotics down his throat three times a day in an effort to ward off the infection. He couldn't move it at all. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't," he said.

"Can't?" she demanded. "Why can't you?"

"He seems to have broken both of his arms, Ms. Arnette," came the call of a girl behind him. "He's right beside Olivia, ma'am."

"Very well, thank you, Natalie. Edwina Jenson…" Ms. Arnette continued down the list, and when she'd finally finished, she set it aside, told two students to start distributing textbooks and announced, "We'll begin today with some revision. I'm going to write some questions common to last year's assignments and you will take turns coming up to answer the question."

Harry's heart started pounding as he read the questions being written. A bunch of numbers and letters strung together, with all those weird symbols? Was that even maths? Where was Hermione when you needed her – doubtlessly Hermione would know the answer.

"Ms. Randall, Ms. Wallace and Mr. James, please answer the first three questions."

Great. A wonderful day. "Ma'am," Harry called, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Ma'am, I have a thrice-broken arm in a sling and a crushed hand. I can't write for weeks."

"I can write for him, ma'am," came the offer from Natalie behind him. Stupid girl… Harry mentally plotted all the curses he could fling at her if he had his wand as Ms. Arnette said what a wonderful idea that was.

"Well, you tell me the steps, and I'll transcribe them for you," Natalie said cheerfully as she got up and waited for him to do the same. "You'll have to come up with me, you know, I'm not doing the calculations for you."

Harry flushed and concentrated on counting the number of threads coming loose in the bandages on his crushed hand. "I… don't know how," he muttered softly.

"What are you talking about?" Natalie asked with a laugh. "We learnt that ages ago, second year of grammar school, I believe," she continued, citing the small three-form school that transitioned most pupils from primary to secondary. "Everybody knows how to do that. You got the easiest question."

"I… don't know how," Harry repeated, feeling his cheeks burn as Natalie stared at him and he heard the undercurrent of whispers begin to make their way across the classroom.

"Oh. Okay," Natalie said in confusion as she slowly sat back down, still sounding like she was expecting him to jump up and tell her it was all a joke, of course he knew how to do the problem.

"Mr. James, I don't see your work!" Ms. Arnette called impatiently.

Wishing he could sink right through the floor, Harry repeated, a little louder, "I don't know how."

Ms. Arnette stood up and strode over. "Mr. James, you learnt this three years ago. All Introduction to Mathematical Concepts teachers spent a good month reviewing it last year. You wouldn't be in this class if you didn't know how to do it. Now go answer the question."

"I don't know how," Harry repeated, now slightly irritated – didn't she think he was embarrassed enough by this? Obviously this was quite a simple question for the Muggles. But he had maybe barely scraped a pass in second-form maths, maybe, and he had never learnt anything more than that. Numbers truly confused him.

"Very well," Ms. Arnette snapped. "Mr. Barnabas, go answer the question. Mr. James, stay behind after class."

* * *

Harry purposely avoided looking at any of the students who whispered to each other and stared at him on their way out the door once class had ended. Once the room was empty, Ms. Arnette said sternly, "Now would you like to explain why you refused to answer a simple question?"

"Because I didn't know how to answer it," Harry said.

"You're supposed to try as best you can, Mr. James," Ms. Arnette said. "Do as much as you can. You could've easily have done the first two or three steps."

Harry shook his head. "Ma'am, I couldn't do any of it. I'm absolute rubbish in anything with numbers, I always have been. Listen, I've got to try and get down to the first floor in five minutes, d'you think I could go?"

"Stay here, I'll excuse your absence later," Ms. Arnette said fiercely, glowering at him. "Couldn't do any of it, you said?" she said skeptically, as she pulled out another set of papers that looked like a test of some sort.

Harry shook his head. Then he freaked out again as she set down a test and looked at him. Merlin, she was going to test him.

* * *

It barely took five minutes and three questions before Harry was absolutely baffled. "I don't know," he kept repeating, growing more and more desperate each time. "I don't know."

Finally, Ms. Arnette slammed down the test paper in frustration. Smashing her fist into a button, she snapped, "Get Rhoda Staresse up here right now!"

Awkward silence filled the room, while Ms. Arnette occasionally muttered things like 'outrage' and 'definite lack of organization' under her breath. Barely ten minutes later, a woman appeared at the door. "You shouted, Evelyn?" she asked mildly. "Ah, yes, you must be Harry, right? The Sampsons' new foster boy?"

"I want to know," Ms. Arnette spit out ferociously, "what this boy is doing in my class."

"Because he's supposed to be?" Ms. Staresse replied uncertainly.

"No! No, no, you dim-witted woman! This boy," she stabbed a finger at Harry for emphasis as he sunk lower into his chair again, face flushing, "can't even get past first-form mathematical questions!" She paused, took a breath and continued. "I don't have time to be privately tutoring a single student in something he should've been learning years ago! I want him out of my class, I will not have my grade point average lowered drastically because somebody neglected to teach him mathematics in primary school!"

* * *

After that, the day just went downhill. History and Chemistry were just as disastrous as Maths, his History teacher exploding at this Rhoda Staresse as well about how the boy couldn't tell you a single solitary thing about any historical event or figure in the last three hundred years, not even the bleeding Prime Minister, and his Chemistry teacher actually booted him out of class because he didn't have a clue what the table of elements was. Rhoda Staresse hurried into the class shortly thereafter, looking frenzied and tired.

Lunch came and went, and physical education was shaping up to be mildly better, because he was benched until all of his injuries healed. But when the teacher asked if he'd ever played rugby or polo and Harry answered no, thinking longingly of the Quidditch he was missing, the physical education teacher, too, called in Rhoda Staresse and demanded to know what hole this boy had come crawling out from. English Composition was wrecked when he had to admit, mumbling, that he didn't have a clue what the proper format of composition writing was. Rhoda Staresse, once again, appeared in the class and was chewed out by the irate English teacher.

* * *

Harry slouched low into his seat, confined to the administrative offices to wait for Don and Anne to show up. Rhoda Staresse seemed to be the school social worker, and she wanted them here to 'discuss the situation'.

"So, Harry," Rhoda said kindly as she sat down next to him. "I guess your first day of school wasn't the greatest."

"I've had better days," Harry muttered.

"I don't doubt that you have," Rhoda laughed. Then she sobered. "I am sincerely sorry to have had you go through a hell of a day like this. I know it likely didn't do anything for your ego."

Harry chose to ignore that comment (he wasn't sure his ego was ever going to recover) and looked up again only when the door opened, and Don and Anne walked in, worry on their faces. He pulled away when Anne made a move as if to hug him, and focused his attention on his sneakers.

He tried not to listen to the conversation going on right beside him. He was tired of people talking about him as though he weren't there.

* * *

"Harry," Anne said as she held the car door open for Harry to get in.

"Hmm," Harry replied indifferently.

"Why didn't you say anything to us beforehand?" she asked. "We could've made special arrangements. We could've saved you all of that. Now you have to try and get through this."

"Hmm," Harry said.

"Harry, I'd appreciate the discontinuance of these monosyllabic grunts," Don said tersely.

"Fine."

Anne watched him from the front seat, before she said softly, "You thought somebody was coming for you, didn't you? You didn't expect to be with us long enough to start school."

"Whatever," Harry muttered, looking out the window.

"Harry," Don sighed, "They don't care about you after you leave."

"Don, you have all the tact of an anvil on the head," Anne reprimanded.

"God, Harry, they beat you half to death! Why do you even want to go back?" Don continued, ignoring his wife's admonishment.

"Because that's where I belong," Harry replied almost inaudibly, not bothering to correct his foster father on the situation. Not like anybody listened any way.

* * *

Harry's head swam with confusion as he tried to make heads or tails out of his maths assignment. He had spent the last eight hours straight, without even breaking for supper, trying to do the first question.

Finally, in frustration, Harry slammed the textbook shut and threw it at the wall. The book stopped in mid-air, and the air let out a wounded cry, letting the textbook fall to the floor with a clatter.

"What?" Harry said, more to himself than to the empty room.

The door swung open and Don looked in, rather crossly. "Harry, would you stop throwing things? It's 1 in the bleeding morning! Go to bed." He closed the door again, and Harry glared at the door and picked up his history textbook to throw, just to spite him. He was in a foul mood, and he wasn't afraid to let them know it.

"Don't you dare throw that," said the air, and Harry, startled, dropped the book onto the bed. From out of nowhere, Remus Lupin appeared, folding up an Invisibility Cloak and rubbing his head. He sent Harry a disgusted look. "Did you have to throw it so hard?"

Harry couldn't stop a laugh from escaping. "What are you doing here?" he asked, the first smile in weeks appearing.

"Rescuing you, what else?" Lupin said dryly. "Although I think after that attack, I might leave you here. Then again, Sirius will probably rip my head from my shoulders with his bare hands if I don't come back with you. He was going to come himself, but I managed to convince him he wasn't much use to you captured."

"I didn't know you were there," Harry protested. "Please get me out of here?"

"Yeah, come on." Lupin cast a doubtful glance at the door. They were on the second floor, and he had seen how hard it was for Harry to make it up or down the stairs. They'd get caught for sure. "Couldn't possibly get out the window, eh?" he asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "Tried that my first night here. Window's nailed shut. Shatterproof glass, and bars in front of all the windows in the house. Everything's nailed down. I'm not the first angry teenage boy in here."

Lupin laughed, then sobered. "I guess we'll have to chance the stairs, then."

"You can't just… crack me out of here or something?" Harry asked in panic. "You know, like Apparition?"

"You don't have your license," Lupin replied, "and the crack can't be explained by anything inside the house. Otherwise I would just cart you along with me. As it is, we can do that once we're out of the house." He sighed and eyed the door doubtfully again. "It's the getting out of the house that's worrying me."

"Stupid leg," Harry muttered, glowering at his metal-rodded leg. "I hate this."

"Merlin, what did they do to you?" Lupin asked softly.

"You think this is bad, you should've seen me a fortnight ago," Harry said. "Tempers ran a bit high in Privet Drive," he added for an explanation.

Lupin's face paled with shock. "Your uncle did this to you?"

"Well, it was Uncle Vernon and Dudley," Harry corrected mildly, face darkening. "Dudley's a district champion boxer, he gave me most of the major injuries. I wouldn't leave." When Lupin frowned at him, he continued, "I had to explain what'd happened to Dudley, didn't I? Stupid great oaf, all shaky and sick from the Dementors… Uncle Vernon told me to get out, but as I'd just gotten two owls which both ordered me to leave under no conditions… well, things got nasty. Knocked me out, and I was wandless and in a ditch outside of town when I came to." He sighed. "Some good Samaritan picked me up and dragged me into the hospital. The Muggles think I was part of some weird cult out there."

"Why's that?" Lupin asked.

"Because I don't exist in the Muggle world. And apparently I've been talking in my sleep, and it sounded very cult-like to them," Harry said. "Please, can we go? I've had one of the most horrible days of my life, I want be back somewhere where I know what's going on."

"Yeah, all right," Lupin agreed, ruffling the teen's hair in mild affection. "C'mon. We've got all your things back at… where we're going."

"Everything?" Harry asked immediately.

"Absolutely everything," Lupin confirmed. "Your wand, your Firebolt, your album. I've got your Cloak here with me, Fred and George took the Map back to Hogwarts with them."

Hogwarts. He was expelled. "What about school?" Harry asked softly. "I missed my hearing."

Lupin's face darkened and he sighed. "Let's worry about that later, Harry. Concentrate on getting out of here first." Carefully, he eased the door open and gestured for Harry to go. Harry tried to make it out with minimal sound, but couldn't avoid the sound of his limp. Step, thump. Step, thump. Curse hardwood floors, it'd be easier to mask on carpet. Groaning under his breath, and casting an apologetic glance at Lupin, who shrugged with a 'well, what can we do?' look, Harry cautiously started to make his way down the stairs, trying to keep himself balanced by hugging the wall and taking it one step at a time – it might look ridiculous, but it was a little easier than just walking down.

Five more steps to go… four more… three –

Harry lost his footing. Lupin managed to grab his arm – unfortunately, the infected one that stung to be touched, let alone grabbed – before he fell all the way, Harry letting loose an expletive in pain and earning himself a stern 'watch your mouth' look from Lupin. "Go!" he hissed at Lupin when he heard the sounds of Don and Anne waking. Lupin hesitated. "Tell Sirius it was my fault, not yours. Go!" Harry added, steadying himself on the banister.

Lupin hesitated only another second. "Hang in there, Harry," he said softly. "We'll get you out somehow." Then he Disapparated with a crack. Harry nearly lost his footing again as Don appeared at the head of the stairs.

"Harry!"

* * *

True to Remus' prediction, when he arrived back at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, Sirius was pacing around the entrance hall anxiously, waiting for him to get back.

"Where's Harry?" he asked again.

Remus sighed. "We ran into a few difficulties. I had to leave him where he was."

"What?!" Sirius roared.

"Sirius, calm down," Remus snapped.

"Calm down?!" Sirius snapped back. "Calm down?! Oh, shut up, you old hag," he added angrily to his mother's portrait screaming down the hall. "Remus, I was counting on you!"

"Sirius," Remus said tightly, "we know where he is. He's… safe, I suppose, for the moment. It's just going to take a little more planning."

"How hard can it be?" Sirius snarled. "Merlin, Remus, you're supposed to be the smart one!"

Remus sighed. This was the part he'd been dreading. Sirius was going to go ballistic. "Sirius, he's hurt."

Sirius stopped dead in his ranting. "What?"

"Apparently, 'things got nasty' at his aunt and uncle's house in August…"

Sirius blanched. "How badly is he hurt?" he asked weakly.

"Pretty badly. Muggles patched him up, but he's very unsteady on his feet. Lost his balance on the stairs while we were trying to get out and woke up the Muggles that have him. It was either let them get both of us or leave him there and go back again."

"What happened to him?" Sirius asked. "In August?"

Remus sighed. "From what I can gather from the little he told me, Dementors attacked his cousin. That was likely why he had the Patronus Charm done. That would line up with Arabella and Mundungus' account. When he and his cousin got home, he had to try and explain what Dementors were doing in Little Whinging and what had happened. I guess that was about the time everybody started owling him. Any way, his uncle told him to get out and Harry told him he wasn't leaving… as he put it, 'things got nasty.' He said he got knocked out, woke up somewhere outside of town and wandless."

"So who are these Muggles that got him now?" Siruis demanded.

"Well, that seems to be rather vague," Remus admitted. "I don't quite understand the situation. As far as I know, some random Muggle found Harry and brought him into one of their hospitals. They seem to think he was part of a 'cult', whatever that is. Do you happen to know what a 'cult' is?"

"Nope, haven't the faintest," Sirius replied, eyes smoldering with rage. "I'll kill Dursley," he growled, hands clenching into fists. "I swear, I'll strangle him with my own hands…"

"Sirius, you will do no such thing," Remus said sharply. "You're doing Harry no good by getting yourself executed. Now, listen. I'm going to go back tomorrow. Daytime. He's at school, and the place must have at least five or six thousand students that are all coming and going. Nobody'll notice if he leaves. I'm going to have to take him to the Burrow first, have Molly try and fix the horrible Muggle patch-ups, but then I'm bringing him straight here, all right?" He fixed a stern look at Sirius. "Stay here. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Mother," Sirius muttered, glowering at him.

* * *

"What?" Harry exclaimed in panic. "No!"

"Harry, it's obviously not working for you here," Ms. Colton said gently. "After yesterday, both Don and Anne, and myself as well, think maybe it's best you change homes. Now go on, get your clothes packed. Don't worry about your schoolbooks, you'll be starting at a new school. And this time, we'll make sure we don't throw you in over your head."

"But…" Harry started to protest.

"Go on, Harry," Anne said quietly. "Some families just don't work out. Maybe you'll be better off with the Dennisons."

How was Lupin supposed to get him out again if he moved?


	4. The Dennisons

**CHAPTER 3: THE DENNISONS**

"Harry, I presume?" the woman asked. She looked around Mrs. Weasley's age.

Ms. Colton had taken off again with a merry "I'll be back in a fortnight!", leaving Harry standing in front of his new foster mother. Reluctantly, Harry nodded. Lupin had promised to come back for him. If there was one thing Harry had learnt, it was that between Sirius and Lupin, they had yet to break a promise to him. Might as well wait it out here.

"I'm Lynne," the woman said. "Gregory – that's my husband – is working right now, and the boys are all at school, but they'll be back at about 4. Come, let's get you settled in and then maybe, would you like something to drink? Tea – I know my boys won't be caught dead drinking tea, but maybe you'd like some?" She picked up Harry's duffel. "We've put you in with Sam, he's your age. I know it'll be a tough adjustment, probably, but Sam's really a nice boy, he'll not be bothering you. Braden and Jack are just across the hall from you, over here. Braden used to have his own room, being the oldest and all, but we thought it might be nicer for you to be rooming with Sam and not Braden. Sam'll be able to muddle through homework with you, you'll be in all the same classes…"

Merlin, did this woman ever stop talking?

* * *

"Mum!" came the collective call of three teenage boys as they banged into the house. "Mum, we're home!"

Lynne looked up and called, "In the kitchen, boys!"

"What's to eat, Mum?" came the question from one boy with wavy brown hair that was falling everywhere around his head. His two brothers had the same hair. "I'm starving, you wouldn't believe how hard Wills ran us today…" He stopped when he saw Harry. "Oh, you the new boy?"

"Braden!" Lynne scolded. "Be polite! This is Harry, boys."

"Boy, somebody banged you up good," came the voice from the second boy. "Mum, you sure there's nothing to eat?"

Lynne sighed. "Lands' sake, do you lot never stop eating?… Go grab something out of the fridge, then. Don't eat too heavily, your father's taking us all out to dinner tonight."

"You mean we're actually taking him out in public like that?" the third boy asked, yanking open the fridge door. "Geez, Mum, the police are going to stop us for abuse!"

"Sam!"

* * *

"Listen," Sam said in an undertone to Harry, "if you think I'm spoon-feeding you – "

"I can feed my own self, thanks," Harry said coolly. It was true, he could, it just took a while.

"How?" Jack asked disdainfully. "You couldn't possibly hold anything in those hands."

"I manage," Harry growled.

"Boys, talk nice to each other," Gregory reprimanded from the driver's seat.

"Don't just talk nice, be nice," Lynne corrected.

* * *

The restaurant turned out to be a specialty soup place. Great. He was going to come out with more on him than in him. At least with solid food, he had a chance of keeping it on a fork until it got to his mouth.

The waiters and waitresses all kept shooting curious glances at him as they passed, no doubt wondering what the poor little boy at table 15 had gotten into. Great, even in the Muggle world he couldn't escape the stares.

Harry grumbled under his breath and tried once more to balance the spoon on his crushed right hand. He managed to get it just about to his mouth when it tipped and fell into the bowl with a loud clatter again. Cursing again in a mutter, he retrieved the spoon and tried again.

The Dennisons had all finished their appetizers, entrees, desserts and coffees before Harry had managed to get five spoonfuls of soup into his mouth. Finally, Lynne said gently, "We'll get it packaged for you, Harry dear. You can finish at home."

* * *

"So I hope you don't snore," Sam said nastily as he crawled into his bed. Harry glowered at him and turned to face the wall. He was hungry, and in a foul mood, and Embittered Harry was hissing in his ears.

Harry woke at about 6:30 the next morning and somehow managed to struggle into his clothes. Merlin, his robes would be so much easier… Limping out to the kitchen and giving thanks that it was a single-floor home (so much easier to escape once Lupin caught up with him), Harry noticed Lynne and Gregory were both awake.

"Harry dear, you're up early," Lynne said in surprise, getting up from the table to go look for food. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast?"

"Just toast, thanks," Harry replied.

"How about that, eh, Lynne?" Gregory said, reading the morning paper. "Family in Little Whinging had their house broken into. Blimey, and they were on vacation too. Just goes to show how little attention people pay to their property's safety. Probably didn't lock their back gate."

"Was anything stolen?" Lynne asked as she set a plate of toast in front of Harry.

"No, that's the odd thing. Family claims they were off on a short vacation, came back and the house had been broken into. Nothing stolen, just a pile of broken dishes and things strewn about, so police aren't investigating, but still… I've heard of rifled cars, but rifled houses?"

Harry listened to them, carefully nibbling at his breakfast to avoid spilling it all in his lap. He'd much rather avoid having to change. Was the family they were discussing the Dursleys, by any chance? Why would've Lupin come searching for him if he hadn't been first to Privet Drive – how would he have gotten Harry's things if he hadn't been to Privet Drive? The Dursleys certainly would've noticed his things were gone, but they weren't about to say that to the police – _"Oh, yes, we're missing a broomstick, and a trunk full of robes and spellbooks, and a wand… No, we're not crazy, really…"_

For a moment, Harry amused himself by thinking about how the Dursleys would've reacted when they figured out that wizards had been in their home. Aunt Petunia's face would've tightened, her face pale, lips puckered together in an expression of sour disgust as she let out little squeaks of upset. Uncle Vernon's face would've gone purple and he would've been sputtering indignantly…

_

* * *

_

"You can GET OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared.

_"No, I don't think I will, thanks," Harry replied calmly, though he was starting to get a little worried – Uncle Vernon was looking rather irate…_

_"Out!"_

_"No."_

_"Out!" Uncle Vernon repeated, knocking Harry out of his chair and to the floor. His face was the most violent shade of purple he'd ever seen before and that included Gilderoy Lockhart's robes._

_Harry could hear Aunt Petunia's little squeaks of upset as she tried halfheartedly to call off her husband and son. From somewhere in the distance, he could've sworn he heard a Howler._

_"Remember my last, Petunia!"_

_'What?' Harry had time to think stupidly before the lack of oxygen and a sharp right hook from Dudley combined to make the world go black._

* * *

"Harry?" Gregory asked sharply.

Harry shook himself back to the present firmly. "Sorry?" he asked, voice cracking a little.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Harry replied quickly, returning his attention to his toast before any more questions were asked.

* * *

"All right, boys, I'll be outside the school at 3:30," Lynne said as she pulled up to the secondary school. "Anybody not in the van by 3:45 is finding their own way home. Have good days."

"Yeah," all four boys grumbled as they piled out. The three Dennisons quickly dispersed into the crowds and Harry sighed, resolutely limping his way to the school.

* * *

"Um, excuse me?" Harry asked the receptionist, who was on the phone with somebody. The receptionist held up a finger and finished her conversation… in about an hour.

By that point, Harry's leg was throbbing from standing on it for so long, his infected arm was sending stabbing pains up and down his arm again and he was rather irritated.

"Now, can I help you?" she asked in exasperation.

"I'm supposed to be starting my classes today, do you have my timetable?" Harry asked curtly. "Harry James."

"Classes started two days ago, Mr. James, timetables were distributed in the summer. If you weren't present to take your timetable, you'll have to book an appointment with your guidance counselor to retrieve another one." She turned back to her computer as Harry ground his teeth together.

"I was only registered in this school yesterday, madam, I don't have the faintest idea what I'm supposed to be doing," Harry said. "Could you at least tell me who my guidance counselor is?"

The receptionist turned to him again and said, "There's a one-week wait period, Mr. James, before all that information reaches you. Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to simply wait."

Harry growled. "Stupid Muggle bureaucracy," he muttered as he left the school. "Wish I was back at Hogwarts now…" Finding a nice, quiet corner of a park somewhere, he dropped to the ground, seething. Well, at least he didn't have to try and explain why he was at a lower-primary level in education now.

Sighing, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree, closing his eyes and willing his pain to go away when he felt a familiar nip at his ear. Sitting up again and opening his eyes, he looked over to see Hedwig perched on his shoulder. "Hey, girl," he whispered, a smile spreading across his face. He took the rolled up parchment from her beak and said, "Go look through my bag, I expect you might find something in there for eating." Steadying the parchment with his crushed hand, Harry eased his metal-rodded arm out of its sling, caught hold – somewhat clumsily, true, and very much against doctor's orders, but how else did they think he got half the things he did accomplished? – and pulled the parchment down, delighted to see Hermione's careful script.

* * *

_Dear Harry:_

_We're all quite worried about you, where ARE you? L said that you've gone missing again somehow. I don't know who's more upset right now: S, Mrs. Weasley or Dumbledore. S has been snappish lately, L told us, he doesn't think S is going to calm down until you're found again and back here, where you belong. Nearly ripped L's head off when he didn't manage to get you out last time._

_Everybody's talking about you at school – the story's all over the Daily Prophet, you know, how you went missing and missed your disciplinary hearing. Half the school thinks you're trying to escape Azkaban for breaking Decree of Secrecy and the other half thinks you've been killed. I expect that wherever you are, you're quite upset enough already, Ron thinks we ought to just tell you about what's going on._

* * *

Here, the handwriting changed from Hermione's neat writing to Ron's messy scrawl.

* * *

_Merlin, that girl prattles, don't she, Harry? Any way, Angelina Johnson's been made the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, she's seething that you're not here. You should've seen the temper tantrum she put up when McGonagall said she wasn't certain you were going to be back in time for Quidditch season. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is this awful toad called Umbridge, she's from the Ministry of Magic. She is, she's a toad, really, she actually looks like one. Snape and Malfoy are almost unbearable with you gone, they're both gloating._

_Hermione would like me to tell you that she and I are prefects. I got a new broom – the new Comet, you know, not as good as your Firebolt, but it's all right – as a reward from Mum and Dad. Fred and George are absolutely aghast. I'm not enjoying it, you know, I'm not like Percy._

_I was thinking, maybe, that I might go out for the Gryffindor team this year, with a new broom, you know, the Keeper spot is open. Charlie and Fred and George always made me Keep for them on breaks. I think I'm all right, don't know that I'm going to get the spot, but it's always worth a try._

* * *

The writing changed back into Hermione.

* * *

_Well, Harry, I hope you're all right, I really do. You mustn't stay away for long, you know, it's OWL year and you'll never be prepared in time if you miss much class. Send us back a letter with Hedwig very soon, we're missing you a lot._

_Love, Hermione and Ron_

* * *

Harry laughed as he finished reading the letter. He could actually see Ron and Hermione arguing over what to write and who would write and how long the letter ought to be. And the way they wrote, it was like having a conversation with them: Hermione making sure that Ron admitted prefectship and reminding Harry about OWLs, in her usual responsible 'you-lot-would-fail-everything-if-I-wasn't-here' manner, and Ron waving her aside to talk about Quidditch – a far more interesting subject than OWLs.

They hadn't mentioned Sirius or Lupin by name, but Harry supposed that it was a measure of security. It mollified his agitated spirit somewhat to know that Sirius was worrying over him, not mention Mrs. Weasley and everybody. It was nice to have people who actually cared.

Sighing as he looked at Hermione's last comment, he groaned. It was OWL year. Of course. The most important year in his schooling so far, and he was indefinitely suspended, if not expelled, from Hogwarts.

Send us back a letter with Hedwig… damn it, how was he supposed to write? Using his metal-rodded arm for steadying or basic movements was one thing: the intricacy of writing was well beyond his ability for a few weeks yet.

A ripping sound from his bag made him jump. Hedwig had torn open the brown bag with his lunch in it, gulped down about half the bread on his sandwich and had promptly ripped off the cloth tag from his backpack for no apparent reason. The cloth had his name and address on it.

"Aw, Hedwig," Harry started to groan, "Lynne's going to murder me for ripping the… you intelligent girl!" he said, realizing what she'd done. "Hedwig, you're such a brilliant bird, I love you! Take that straight to Lupin and Sirius, all right? I assume they're in the same place. Hopefully, they'll get it."

Hedwig hooted and took off.

* * *

When Harry finally found his way back to the Dennison house, it was well after dinner and the kitchen was a cacophony of voices.

"Yes, yes, 15-year-old boy, black hair, green eyes, glasses, bandages and casts everywhere…" Lynne was saying frantically to somebody on the phone. "Well, I dropped him off at Mallowvale Secondary this morning with my sons before classes and he wasn't there in the afternoon when I came to pick them up. But I thought he had a class run late or something, I told them I was only waiting until quarter to four…"

"I never saw him anywhere in school today," Sam commented easily. "Probably skipped, Mum."

"… no, you don't understand, this is a foster son. There are concerns for his safety…"

"Oh, are you in trouble," Braden snickered as he walked in behind Harry. "Mum, he's back!"

"Is he? Oh, good… Officer, thank you for your time, he's just walked in the door…" Lynne appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Harry, get over here right now!"


	5. In A Downward Spiral

**CHAPTER 4: IN A DOWNWARD SPIRAL**

Remus growled in frustration as he abandoned yet another retrieval attempt. He had to go tell Sirius _again_ that Muggles were smarter than they gave them credit for. And with two days to go before Christmas, Sirius was going to explode at him _again_. This was proving much more difficult than they had first thought.

Both Sirius and Molly had been sniping at each other ever since Arthur's attack at the Ministry a fortnight ago. Molly was frantic over both Arthur and Harry, and Sirius was more than frantic, he was in full-fledged panic over Harry. As a result, they were getting into territory disputes that got Sirius' hackles up and drove Molly to tears and which nobody seemed to be able to diffuse. Molly would fuss over Harry and Sirius would snap that Harry was not _her_ son, he was _his_ godson and Molly would snap back that he had done a bloody good job at it in Azkaban and Sirius would explode when she insinuated that it was _his_ fault Harry was still out there somewhere and not back at headquarters or Hogwarts.

And with the Weasley children back for Christmas, along with Hermione, the entire house was teeming with short tempers that only got shorter as Christmas approached and Remus had to return Harry-less once more.

Not to mention Harry himself was starting to worry him. Every time he found him, Harry seemed to be losing hope. His casts and bandages were off, but his movements were still clumsy, his eyes were going dead, never a smile to be seen. He seemed to just be going through the motions of life. The only signs of life Remus had seen were when Harry got angry. He was getting into a lot of fights now, as if he thought lashing out was going to solve his hurting world.

Hermione and Ron had gone to him two days ago, panicking when they said that they'd finally gotten an owl from him and he sounded… resigned. As if he didn't expect anybody to come anymore. _"Lupin, he sounds depressed!… You _have_ to get him soon…"_

But the Muggles had moved him again. He wasn't there.

* * *

Another month, another family. Dully, Harry tried to remember what number this one was. Ten? Fifteen? He couldn't recall anymore.

"Harry, _please_, _please_ try to make this one work," Ms. Colton begged. "It's not good for you to be going around in circles like this."

"Hmm," Harry said in a non-committal tone. He wasn't going to bother even trying anything anymore. What was the point? The Muggles didn't care that he wasn't going to fit into their world. The wizarding world had ceased to care what happened to him. He was back where he had started: alone.

Naïve Harry didn't even bother voicing himself now. The only Harry he heard was Embittered Harry.

* * *

Whatever the names of his current fosters were (he wasn't even bothering to learn names now), they had long since gone to bed. The house was still and quiet. Sighing, Harry rummaged in his bag. He brought it, he knew he had. He made sure he brought it to each home, the only staying thing.

Sliding the penknife out of one pocket of his bag and flipping it open, Harry stared at the blade in the moonlight, watching the faint light bounce off the smooth, cool metal. He had taken it from one of his homes, probably a few months ago by now. It was the only thing that numbed the pain, even if only momentarily. It gave him something else to focus on, a pain he could solve. An arm that was throbbing and bleeding, he knew how to fix. A heart that was dead and broken, he had no clue how to fix.

This was the only time Harry let the tears escape, when he put the blade to his scarred forearm and drew it across. He methodically sliced, he had no idea for how long. He only knew that with each cut, his emotional pain dimmed just a little bit more, replaced by immediate, demanding physical pain.

Sirius' betrayal… Harry cut a particularly deep line. Sirius had failed him. Sirius hadn't come. Sirius had left him here, in this hell of a life.

Lupin's lies… Harry reopened an old scar. He kept promising to get him out, soon, Harry, soon… yeah, right. Try never.

Ron and Hermione… Harry stopped for a moment, dripping blade hovering above his arm. Then he brought it down again, pressing it in deep. They didn't care anymore. They probably only sent letters to appease their consciences now.

Eventually, Harry stopped the cutting. He cleaned off the blade and closed the penknife, dropping it back into his bag and pulling out his bag of bandages. He needed the large gauze tonight, there were a lot of deep cuts. He was running low on them, he'd need to buy some more.

Silently, dully as the emotional pain came screaming back along with the physical pain, Harry wrapped his arm in bandages, from wrist to elbow. He put the bag away again and climbed under his covers.

* * *

He escaped early on Christmas Day, before the fosters had even woken up. Last thing he wanted was to hear them and their family: they were grandparents, their children and grandchildren were coming over. Where exactly he was going, Harry didn't know. He took his bandages, his knife. That was all he needed.

He walked for what seemed like hours. It was well into the negative twenties for temperature, but still he walked, turning down random streets and alleys until he was completely and utterly lost. Good. Maybe nobody would find him and he could just die of frostbite in an abandoned alley somewhere. He doubted anybody would care by now.

Flopping down to the ground finally, in a doorway to an abandoned storefront, Harry took out his knife and uncovered his other arm, the one that hadn't been cut in a while. The arm that Wormtail had cut that horrid night, with its long, jagged scar…

He didn't want to _do_ this anymore – this life, he thought as he idly cut little marks over his arm. This breathing, walking, existing. He just wanted it all to _stop_.

Before he'd really thought about it, Harry jammed the knife into his arm where Wormtail's scar started and pulled down, welcoming the white-hot pain that screamed through his body and the rush of blood that escaped, pouring over his arm in a sort of soothing waterfall as the world started to go black.

* * *

"I think he's coming to," a distant voice said worriedly. The foster woman… what was her name again? Isabelle, Isadora, Isa-something… wasn't it? Or was that the last one?

"Am I dead?" Harry managed to ask thickly.

"No, no, Harry, you're not dead, you're not going to die. You gave us quite a fright. We've been looking for you all day." A gentle hand brushed a lock of hair off of his head and Harry jerked his head away irritably. Who did she think she was, his mother? He didn't _have_ a mother. _Or_ a father. Merlin, he couldn't even have a _godfather_. He was never going to, thanks to Wormtail.

The hot hatred coursed through his veins again. It was _him_ that had caused all of this. Him and Uncle Vernon and Dudley. He hated all of them. He wanted them to die. But after he did, because he couldn't take the hatred and the grief and the anger and depression and the feeling. He didn't want to _feel_ anything anymore.

"Harry," Isa-whatever pleaded softly. "Harry, don't pull away. Dear, you're hurting and you're telling no one. We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong."

Harry focused his attention on a spot on the wall away from her. Merlin, they just couldn't leave him be, could they? They had to nose their way into everything, try to pretend like they cared about why he hated life.

* * *

"Remus, _please_ me tell you found him," Sirius begged as Remus came in, face pink from the brutal wind and serious.

The Weasleys all looked up, waiting for Remus' answer.

Remus sighed, rubbing his hand over his face wearily. Then he nodded quietly. "I found him, but there's no way I'm getting him out."

"Why?" Molly asked sharply.

Remus bit his lip. "He's in one of the Muggle hospitals."

"What? Why?" the Weasley children and Hermione all exclaimed anxiously.

"I don't know," Remus sighed, dropping into a nearby chair. "From what I could see, it looks like he's gotten into another fight that escalated out of control. It was sort of weird, though."

"Weird, how?" Sirius asked.

"Weird, because the only injuries he had were on his arms. Cuts up and down his arms, it was so strange."

"Hermione, what is it?" Ginny asked immediately, shaking Hermione's arm. "Hermione!"

Hermione had blanched, whispering, "No, he wouldn't… he _wouldn't_…"

"Hermione?" Sirius asked in a smooth, carefully controlled tone. "Why isn't it strange to you?"

"Well…" Hermione faltered, still icy white. "Wizards _must_ have the equivalent of it, I have a hard time believing they wouldn't…"

"Hermione, _what is it_?"

"Well…" Hermione stopped, struggling to find the words to explain the concept. "Well, if it's what I _think_ it is, it certainly sounds like it, then…" she stopped again.

"Just spit it out, already, Hermione!" Ron snapped.

"I'm_ trying_!" Hermione snapped back. "It's a very difficult concept to explain, Ronald!" She sighed and turned back to Remus and Sirius. "Well, the Muggles call it 'cutting'. If it _is_ 'cutting', then Harry didn't get into a fight, Lupin, he attacked himself."

"Why?" Sirius demanded. "_Why_ would _anybody_ attack themselves?"

"Sirius, I think it's the Muggles' equivalent of injection, if I understand Hermione correctly," Remus said quietly. Suddenly understanding dawned in the eyes of everybody around the table. Apparently the wizards _did_ have an equivalent.

"I don't claim to understand everything that drives somebody to cutting," Hermione said softly. "But from what I understand, it makes them feel better for a while."

"How does hurting yourself make you feel better?" Ginny asked. "I don't understand that."

"I suppose it's because they _know_ what to do about physical pain. Your arm is bleeding, what do you do? You clean, you bandage, you stop the bleeding. But what do you do about emotional pain? You can't _do_ anything about it. They forget about the emotional pain for a while because they have to focus on the physical. My cousin's a psychiatrist, she sees quite a few cutters," Hermione explained.

* * *

Now he had pills. Wonderful. Little white pick-me-up pills he had to take once a day. Like he was going to take those useless things. He flatly refused them. But if he made enough of a store-up of those little white pills, they could potentially do the trick…

Nope. Muggles were smarter than that, they didn't leave him with the pills. They delivered a single one with breakfast, stayed in the room while he ate and if he hadn't taken the pill, they took it with them.

But he wouldn't be in here forever. Eventually they were going to release him, and he would have to go to a new foster with a little bottle of pills. Would the whole bottle be enough, or would he need two? How _strong_ were those pills?

* * *

"Sirius, how many times do we have to tell you? _You can't go_," Remus said in exasperation as he caught Sirius' arm. Sirius was trying to leave again, to go find Harry. He had known that Sirius wasn't going to stand for this much longer – he was going to do something stupid.

Now, Remus really wished that he had never mentioned the injuries at Christmas. Ever since Hermione's explanation, Sirius had been more desperate than ever to escape and get to Harry. He was scared that Harry was going to do something dangerous, something drastic. Everybody was, but Sirius was past even panic now.

"I'm telling you, Remus, I'm not sitting around here any longer!" Sirius snapped. "_You_ obviously can't get him, so _I_ will."

Remus kept his tongue. Sirius had always been rash. He had always said things he didn't mean when he was upset or angry or worried. He probably didn't quite realize how cutting his reply had been. "And what happens when somebody spots you, Sirius, and you get caught?"

"I won't be," Sirius replied stubbornly.

"Sirius, don't do this," Remus said again, a little more desperately.

"Let me go, Remus, before I curse you," Sirius growled, yanking his arm out of Remus' grasp. Grabbing his wand, he stuck it into his robes. "I'm going after him whether you aid and abet or not. But I'd appreciate your help," he added grudgingly, as if only just now realizing that Remus was the only one who actually knew where Harry was, or where he had been.

Remus sighed. "Be it on your own head, then."


	6. Hitting Rock Bottom

**CHAPTER 5: HITTING ROCK-BOTTOM**

Harry kicked at a rock dismally as he shoved his only functional hand into his pocket. He had decided to just skip class again – CPS couldn't seem to remember to forward the flag on his file that said that he didn't have a clue what he was doing in school, and Harry would much appreciate not being subject to the whispers and laughs and stares. He might be tempted to attack somebody again, and he'd probably end up losing function in his other hand this time, not to mention landing himself in jail.

Originally, he had regained some mobility and dexterity in both hands. They were still restricted, but they still worked somewhat. But one good right hook to the face of the last idiot to make a sneering comment about Harry's intelligence had destroyed the brittle nerves and muscles. Everything from the fingertips to the wrist joint was useless. His Quidditch days were long over, and _that_ stung. The only thing that had made him feel somewhat better had been that he had at least broken the guy's jaw. That, and the three-hour cutting session right after he'd gone back to the fosters.

Smeltings wasn't far from here, he thought vaguely as he looked at the distant building. He'd heard that the 'posh little swotty boarding school nancy boys' often came into the small town he had been sent to for weekend outings. Maybe he'd see Dudley, and he could take out all the anger and frustration on the one who'd wrecked his life.

Dropping to the ground, Harry dug around in his schoolbag until he found what he was looking for. The cutting just hadn't been doing it for him lately – he needed something else. That was when one of the guys in his last school had introduced him to crack. When the cutting didn't help enough, he took a bit of crack and everything just sort of floated away. Yes, Harry was very aware that it was illegal, but if it helped, who really cared about it anymore?

He wouldn't bother with the cuts this morning, he decided as he took out some blessed crack and lit up. He'd do that this evening, after he'd gone and gotten more bandages. And he'd stash away his pill for the day, add it to the growing stockpile in his schoolbag. These fosters were really green, they weren't even bothering to hide the bottle. He could've taken the whole thing and he doubted that they would've noticed.

* * *

"What in Merlin's name is he doing?" Remus asked Sirius in a low, confused voice.

"He's 15, he's far too young to be smoking," Sirius agreed, fingering his wand as if wanting to blast the strange glass pipe out of Harry's hand.

"That's no pipe _I've_ ever seen," Remus muttered, putting a warning hand on Sirius' arm. "Maybe it's a Muggle thing."

* * *

"Harry, would you mind giving me an explanation as to why you skipped school today?" his new foster mother asked as she stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

Harry shrugged, picking at the sleeve of his sweater. He couldn't dare show his arms, the fosters and Ms. Colton would haul his drugged-up, scarred self back to the psychiatrist. "Didn't feel like going," he replied indifferently.

"That's not an acceptable excuse, Harry, and you know that," she said sternly.

"Fine. What's the point?" Harry said. "I'm so far behind, I'm never going to catch up anyway."

She finally sighed in defeat and closed the door again. She was probably just going to concentrate on the easy foster son, the little 9-year-old who _wasn't_ out of her control.

* * *

The next morning, Harry slipped out early. Again, he didn't quite know where he was headed, but he knew one thing: he wasn't coming back.

He finally found himself a nice, quiet, isolated patch of woods somewhere that nobody passed. Settling down against the trunk of a tree, Harry steeled himself for what he was about to do as he pulled out his knife, his new stash of crack, and the entire bottle of little white pills.

* * *

Harry groaned softly as he felt an animal of some kind nudging at his head. The world was spinning, he felt weak, shaky, sick to his stomach. Merlin, he _still_ wasn't dead.

A small whine came from the animal as it nosed his face with a wet nose. Harry tried feebly to push the animal away, but his muscles felt as limp as spaghetti. The animal insistently continued to nose him, paws pressing into his side with an increasingly painful weight.

"Sirius, you're going to crush the poor boy, get off," came a sharp, familiar voice. "Harry? Harry, dear, you awake?"

He couldn't seem to focus on anything. The weight lifted from his side and he felt his body bounce painfully as the animal presumably jumped off of wherever he was – a bed? Where _was_ he?

"Wre'my?" he asked blearily, feeling another bounce on the bed and then a warm, furry body curling up next to him and the wet nose started nudging his face again.

"You're at the Burrow, dear," the voice replied. "Sirius, _get off_." A slight growl from the animal apparently was enough to make the voice back down.

Slowly, it started to piece together in Harry's fragmented mind. The voice was Mrs. Weasley. He was at the Burrow. The animal frantically nosing him was Sirius, in his dog form. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was blacking out in the middle of an isolated forest.

Another voice – Lupin, maybe? – came into the room. "Sirius, don't crowd him, he's only just come to. Get off there, give him room to breath."

Reluctantly, the nose stopped, but Sirius stubbornly refused to leave the bed, settling down as Harry started to slowly have his world come back into focus – or as much focus as it could without his glasses on.

Harry managed to grab his glasses after a few clumsy attempts and put them on, blinking a few times to try and clear the last of the fog from his vision. This _had_ to be a dream. How many times had he wished he was back here, how many times had he dreamt this exact scene, only to wake up and find himself still trapped?

He was still dizzy as he forced himself to sit up. "What happened?" he asked, a little faintly as he tried to force his focus to straighten out on Mrs. Weasley. The world was still a little spinny from the drugs – evidently he was still slightly high.

"Why don't _you_ tell _us_?" Lupin asked quietly.

"No, I mean, how'd I get here?" Harry corrected himself.

"Remus and Sirius brought you straight here," Mrs. Weasley replied. "You gave us the scare of our lives, Harry dear. Lie down, you look as though you're about to pass out." Gently, but firmly she forced him back down. "The others will be home from Hogwarts in a week. They wanted to come straightaway, but what with OWLs and NEWTs, they really couldn't leave. Especially with that foul Umbridge woman nosing around…"

"Don't even speak of Dolores Umbridge to me," Lupin said darkly.

Sirius growled in a low tone before he worriedly nosed Harry again, a small whine escaping.

"Sirius, _really_," Mrs. Weasley said in exasperation. "Leave him be, you don't need to be disturbing Harry every two – don't you _dare_ growl at _me_!" she added fiercely when Sirius' hackles went up and he growled warningly at her, baring his teeth.

"Molly, Sirius, both of you, calm down," Lupin sighed tiredly. Then he looked at Harry, worry clearly still present in both his eyes and his voice as he said, "Sirius decided to hell with security and safety and just hauled you out of the forest. We thought you were going to die, Harry." Sirius whined in worried affirmation, nosing Harry again. He was really getting a bit annoying, Harry found. He didn't like being fussed over.

"That was the whole point," Harry finally said, averting his eyes from everybody in the room.

* * *

Harry didn't think that Sirius left his side for even five minutes over the next week. If Harry plucked at his bandages on his arm, trying to fight the desire to cut himself, Sirius snapped and grabbed his sleeve in his teeth, yanking his hand away. He had never appeared in human form even once, for security purposes. Mrs. Weasley had ordered him to stay as a dog if he wanted to remain at the Burrow.

The withdrawal from the drugs was making Harry surly and short-tempered, unpredictable and he was overreacting to every little crisis. And _that_ was just the mental withdrawal. Physically, he felt as though he were dying. Dying a slow, painful, torturous death. It was making him act in strange ways: on his better days he would pace around, desperately worrying away at his sleeves or his bandages; on his worst days he would rave madly and beg to be killed.

On the day the Weasley children and Hermione (who was simply coming straight to the Burrow) were due to arrive from Hogwarts, Harry was in one of his worst days. He was snarling at Sirius, who seemed to be losing patience with him as he snarled right back at Harry.

"Just _kill_ me already!" Harry snapped, writhing in discomfort on the sofa. "Don't make me suffer, just let me _diiiiiiiiiiie_…"

"You're not dying, Harry," Lupin repeated tiredly as he walked in.

"I _am_…" Harry insisted pleadingly.

"No, you're not."

"Kill me if you've any decency at all."

"Nobody's killing anybody here, Harry."

* * *

Harry had calmed down into a somewhat normal state by the time Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had arrived from London.

Ginny and Hermione both squealed in excitement when they spotted him, dashing over to throw their arms around his neck. Harry instinctively stiffened: he had avoided affectionate touch all year and it felt strange, uncomfortable to him now.

"Harry, you're all right, we were so worried," Hermione gushed, she and Ginny both releasing him when they figured out he didn't like the touch. Eyes tearing, she said, "We were so scared we weren't going to find you, Harry, it's been the most _awful_ year…"

"You _are_ all right, aren't you?" Ginny asked worriedly, looking at his thin, wan face.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, fingering the fraying edges of his bandages nervously.

"You don't _look_ fine," Hermione persisted, gently tugging his hand away. "You look ill."

"You look half-dead," Ron spoke up from the doorway, watching Harry carefully. "We missed you this year, Harry."

Harry sent him a halfhearted smile. "So?" he asked. "Tell me what's been going on."

Grinning, Ron and both twins joined the other teens in the sitting room, jumped onto the sofa and launched into a tale of the last year: how Angelina Johnson, they were sure, was channeling Oliver Wood; how Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had gone into hysterics when Umbridge had told them that they weren't practicing their counter-spells and the first time they could try it was in the exam; how Hannah Abbott was so hysterical by the time OWLs came along that she had to be sent home; how Umbridge had tried to take over Hogwarts and the entire school (inanimate objects, ghosts, professors _and_ students) had rebelled.

Harry listened to all of it, hoping that they would forget to ask him about what had happened to him. He smiled and laughed in all the right spots, careful to avoid doing anything with his hands – he didn't want to have them know that his right hand was paralyzed. Lupin and Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley and Sirius knew, they'd seen him at mealtimes for a week. Somehow he knew that dinner tonight would only require one utensil, likely a spoon.

Mr. Weasley had promised him that once he was back to his normal self, he would take Harry into St. Mungo's to see if the Healers could fix anything. He doubted that most of the scars could be removed by this point, they were too old, but perhaps Harry's hand could be repaired, his limp removed, full mobility and dexterity returned to his left arm.

Or at least that's what he told Harry. But Harry had heard those quiet conversations between the elder Weasleys and Lupin, the hurried whispers that happened the one time that Dumbledore and McGonagall had come, late into the night. The serious doubts that Harry could be fixed.

* * *

By the time dinner came around, the other teens appeared to be satisfied with Harry's performance, noticeably relieved. At Mrs. Weasley's call to dinner, Ron, Fred and George all shouted for joy and dashed into the kitchen, quickly followed by Hermione and Ginny. Harry sighed and dragged himself behind, trying to mask his limp as best as he could. He didn't _think_ anybody noticed, except perhaps Hermione.

True to Harry's prediction, dinner was soup and garlic toast. Nothing that would make the paralysis glaringly obvious. However, he didn't think it escaped Hermione's attention that he was using his left hand, and somewhat clumsily, despite the fact he was right-handed. She frowned at him questioningly, but Harry didn't meet her frown, concentrating on controlling his hand as best he could. When he realized that he wouldn't be able to keep up the charade for much longer, he moved his bowl and then his plate of toast to the floor under the table for Sirius, who had been trying not to beg for food. Sirius growled in a low tone briefly to tell Harry he wasn't happy with him for giving up his not-even-half-finished dinner, but then butted Harry's leg affectionately in thanks and started eating.

She cornered him after dinner, once the Weasley children had all gone to wash up. "Harry," she said sternly, "you're not left-handed."

"Aren't I?" Harry asked evasively, passing a plate to her. His heart nearly stopped when he scrambled to regain a hold on the plate as it dipped dangerously.

"No, you're not," Hermione said, grabbing the plate from him. "What's going on with you?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Hermione," Harry said smoothly as Mrs. Weasley pointed at a chair and ordered him to sit.

"Don't lie to me, Harry, I'm not thick. I saw the limp. I saw that you haven't used your right hand all day. And you're not doing particularly well with your left hand. What happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hermione," Harry repeated.

Hermione watched him for a moment. Then she gave a sigh of frustration and stalked out.


	7. The Hardest Thing To Do

**CHAPTER 6: THE HARDEST THING TO DO**

Harry wasn't even sure he was still on the Burrow's property when he finally stopped his journey.

Lowering himself to the ground, he tried not to let the tears escape. He was tired of being hurt, being exposed as weak, useless. Being told that he was never going to amount to anything of value because of what he didn't have – an education, a perfectly functioning body, a family, any skills.

This was the last place, these were the last people he had that still thought he had anything to offer. He wasn't going to disappoint them – he was useless. He couldn't walk very far without falling flat on his face. He only had half the use of one hand. He was broken, scarred beyond repair. Some mighty hero. As far as Harry was concerned, Voldemort could go ahead and kill him. He'd be doing the world a favour.

His hand slid into his pocket, where he still had his knife. Pulling it out and flicking it open, he was about to press it deep into his skin when somebody's hand snatched it away.

"I don't think so, Harry," came Sirius' voice. He closed the knife and passed it to somebody else, who promptly threw it far into the lake.

"What did you do that for?" Harry hurled at him furiously, struggling against Sirius' grip on his wrist. "Unlike _you_, it never _left_ me in hell!" He saw Sirius flinch at the accusation, but he was far too angry to care.

"Well, Harry, unlike the knife, _I_ care whether you live or die," Sirius finally said in a carefully controlled tone.

"Harry," Lupin's voice came on his other side. "Harry, I know how you're feeling."

"No, you _don't_!" Harry snapped angrily. "I'm _sick_ of hearing that! Nobody has _a damn clue _how I feel!"

"You're angry."

"Oh, well spotted, Sherlock," Harry scoffed.

"Harry, would you shut up and listen?" Sirius snapped, an odd tenseness in his voice.

"You're angry," Lupin continued, "because you feel useless. Because you don't think you'll be able to do anything worthwhile." He sighed and rubbed his left forearm ruefully. "I've been where you are, Harry."

When Harry looked up briefly, Lupin pulled back the sleeve of his robe to reveal an old burn scar on his arm. "Fifth year," he said quietly. "Couple of days before OWLs. Didn't see what the point was anymore. It didn't make any difference how well or how badly I did in my OWLs, it didn't matter what NEWTs I had to take, I still wasn't going to have a 'career'. I'd be lucky to have a steady job." He sighed. "I tried to swallow a goblet of quick-acting poison in one of the hidden corridors that Filch didn't know about. That was the only time I ever regretted making the Map, though."

"Your dad and I were getting concerned about him, so we checked the Map to see where he was," Sirius continued quietly, grip still firm on Harry's wrist. "We left Peter behind in the dorm room because we knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with us. James got there just before I did."

"Knocked the goblet right out of my hand," Lupin finished, eyes clouded with pain. "The stuff spilled on all three of us."

"Merlin, that stuff burned right through the skin," Sirius said softly, showing Harry the burn on his own arm. "Don't think I ever had anything hurt quite that much. Can't believe you were going to _drink_ that, Remus."

"I'll never forget what James told me that night," Lupin sighed.

"What?" Harry asked quietly, heart aching for the closest he was ever going to get to advice or consolation from his father.

"That nobody's useless," Lupin replied. "A person's worth isn't measured by what they can or can't do, or what they are. It's _who_ they are."

"James and I used to have to remind him about that when we left Hogwarts," Sirius continued the story. "We had to remind him that all three of us had the burns from the poison."

"What hurts one of us hurts all of us," Lupin agreed. "Harry, Hermione and Ron especially… they're hurting just as much as you are, and they don't know what's hurting you. Don't lock them out. This year has been absolutely miserable for them."

After a long while, Harry finally said, "Sirius, you're not supposed to be in human form here. Mrs. Weasley…"

Sirius grinned and ruffled Harry's hair affectionately, making a small smile break out on Harry's face. "I won't tell Molly if you two don't." With that, the man disappeared and the dog reappeared.


	8. A New Challenge

**CHAPTER 7: A NEW CHALLENGE**

Harry listened to Ron and Hermione grousing at each other over the anticipation of OWL marks, rubbing his thumb absently over the deep scar on his right wrist, where he had torn his knife through to try and end his life. Fred and George were back from their shop in Diagon Alley for the evening, and more snappish than usual over their impending NEWT marks. Ginny was stitching up a tear in one of her school robes across the room, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were discussing something in low voices in the kitchen with the other members of the Order.

All he wanted was to get back to some semblance of a normal life, and it was mildly encouraging that nobody was attempting to avoid confrontations with each other around him any more. He was still too self-conscious to reveal his arms, which was starting to irk Hermione ("Harry, honestly, it's sweltering in here _and_ out there, just put on a t-shirt and get it over with! Really, they're only scars, they can't be _that_ bad…").

They had sent Sirius back to wherever it was that he had been hiding out last week. Sirius had growled and snarled and stalled and been ridiculously stubborn until Mrs. Weasley had threatened to sic Dumbledore on him and had sworn to send Harry back to him in August _("There's no point in him going any earlier, Sirius, Dumbledore has to fix his school and he might as well stay with the other kids until it's settled…")_.

Harry knew why she wanted him at the Burrow in July and not August. If Harry wound up not going back to Hogwarts, it would save him having to see Ron and Hermione and Ginny prepare to do exactly that.

"Oh my word! They're here!" Hermione shrieked suddenly, pointing out the window to where the swarm of owls were flying in. "They're here! Okay, okay, calm down…"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the petrified look on her face. "I'm sure you aced them, Hermione."

"Okay, okay, I can do this," she muttered as Ron rolled his eyes in Harry's direction.

"Hogwarts letters, kids!" Mrs. Weasley said, appearing in the kitchen with a stack of letters. "Ginny, here's yours… Fred, George, your NEWT results and graduation certificates… Ron, Hermione, your OWL – " She laughed as Hermione snatched them away and handed one to Ron. "And Harry, you've a letter here from the Ministry," she finished quietly.

Harry took it and slipped away from where the sounds of celebrations were rising as the twins and Ron and Hermione started exchanging results. He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, sliding the letter out.

_

* * *

_

Mr. H. Potter, formerly of number 4, Privet Drive:

_In reply to your current guardian's request to have accommodations made in regards to your missed disciplinary hearing and OWLs, we regret to inform you that we cannot make allowances despite the situation. As a result, it is our great grievance to advise you of your subsequent expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry due to your failure to appear at your disciplinary hearing._

_Normally in such cases, the Ministry would destroy your wand, however, an exception has been made due to the extenuating circumstances of the past year. You may retain your wand, and because of the unique situation at hand, have communally agreed that you should be considered not to be under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry. Therefore, you may use your wand at any time._

_Have a pleasant summer._

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

* * *

Harry stared at the letter dumbly for a moment while it sunk into his mind. He wasn't going back.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked excitedly as she burst into the kitchen, completely oblivious to his current state of mind. "Harry, ten Os and an E! This is so wonderful, isn't it?"

Harry forced a smile as he replied, "Yeah, that's great, Hermione. Congratulations."

"Thanks," she said happily. "I only got an E in Defense Against The Dark Arts, I'm rather disappointed, but with the inferior quality of teaching we got this year, it's not surprising…"

Harry let her chatter away, folding his letter and tucking it into his pocket before she noticed it. And when Ron joined them, exulting over his decent marks ("Eight OWLs, Harry, that's good, that's more than Fred and George got together!"), Harry didn't bother telling them about the letter. When both Hermione and Ron started to talk about next year, he didn't bother correcting them when they included him in their planning.

* * *

"Well," Remus offered sympathetically as he finished reading the letter, "at least you get to keep and use your wand."

Harry gave him an unimpressed look.

"All right, I'm sorry, I expect you don't want to hear meaningless platitudes," Remus said with a slight laugh.

For some reason, Harry was finding it easier to accept his expulsion now that he was away from the other teens. Or maybe it was just that he'd been charged to Sirius permanently now. He wasn't sure who was more thrilled – Sirius or himself.

"This is going to be _great_," Sirius said with a grin that Harry supposed that he had used a lot at school – a grin that hid a plot of some kind. The twins had a similar expression. "I can teach you what I _want_ to."

"As long as it doesn't include Divination or History, you can teach me whatever you want," Harry laughed.

"Don't tell him _that_, Harry, you might regret it," Remus warned with a grin of his own. "Sirius, you _do_ know you have to follow something vaguely resembling a curriculum, right?"

"Just because _you're_ a fancy-shmancy professor, Remus, doesn't mean we all need to be. Nobody's grading here." Sirius laughed when Remus smacked him across the back of his head.

Harry laughed again, a true smile making its way onto his face for the first time in months.

* * *

On the last day of summer vacation, the Weasleys and Hermione all came to Grimmauld Place for dinner. The news still hadn't been broken to them – only Sirius and Remus were aware of Harry's expulsion, so the atmosphere was light and the conversation unhindered by politesse.

"I can't believe Umbridge is still there," Ron grumbled. "You're going to absolutely _hate_ her, Harry, she's a complete and utter _toad_."

"If I didn't dislike the woman just as much, I'd say something to you about least saying your professor's name with respect," Molly said darkly. "But I happen to find her repugnant."

"She sounds awful," Harry said evasively.

"She _is_, she's terrible," Hermione agreed vehemently. "Nobody learns anything at all from her."

"I'd have bombed the Defense OWL if it weren't for Hermione's brilliance," Ron laughed. "Being friends with a genius has its perks."

"We got a whole lot of testing for our new products done last year, though," Fred commented. "Our Wildfire Whizbangs."

"Skiving Snackboxes."

"Portable Swamps."

"Various other tools of the trade."

"All directed at exasperating Umbridge, of course."

"We near burnt her cardigan once."

"Peeves was all too happy to knock over a few lamps and such to cause a distraction."

"'Course, then she threatened to reinstate corporal punishment for us."

"You should've seen the lights that went on in Filch's face."

"Then McGonagall vetoed _that_ idea."

The laughter that echoed around the kitchen made the twins grin in satisfaction.

"So, Harry, do you need anything done for your clothes before tomorrow?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry shook his head. "Are you sure, Harry dear?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you, though, Mrs. Weasley."

"Are you even _packed_ yet, Harry?" Hermione asked knowingly. "Ron's barely gathered his things from around the Burrow, let alone put them in any sort of traveling storage device."

"Nope," Harry replied easily.

"Are you packing tonight, at least?" Hermione persisted.

"Nope."

"You're not just throwing everything in your trunk first thing in the morning?" she asked in exasperation. "Honestly, _boys_…"

"Nope."

"What, so you're just showing up on Platform 9 ¾ with no luggage at all?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"What is this, Twenty Questions?" Ron exclaimed. "Seriously, Hermione, we're sixteen. Harry and I are both perfectly capable of packing our own trunks, thank you very much."

Harry pointedly ignored Sirius and Remus' vaguely paternal 'tell-them-or-we-will' looks.

* * *

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked, dogging his steps out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. "There's something you're not telling us."

"Clever, Hermione, it only took you two months to figure that out," Harry said shortly.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked, joining them.

Harry sighed and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "I'm not going back tomorrow. Or ever."

His best friends stared at him, struck dumb.

"They expelled me for not showing up to my disciplinary hearing last August," Harry continued dully.

"When did you find out?" Ron asked weakly.

"Day you lot all got your marks," Harry replied, sighing.

"But that's not fair, it wasn't your fault!" Hermione exclaimed. "Besides, Dumbledore can't possibly be sending you back to the Dursleys, not after what they did to you!"

"He isn't sending me back to Privet Drive, and I wouldn't go even if he was," Harry said. "I'm staying here." A brief flicker of a smile flitted across his face.

"But you… but you still have your wand," Ron said in confusion.

Harry smiled wryly. "I get to keep it, due to the 'extenuating circumstances' at hand. And I don't count as underage anymore."

"Well, that's not going to do you a whole lot of good, Harry, if you're missing three years of schooling," Hermione pointed out pragmatically.

"Sirius and Remus are going to keep teaching me in here," Harry answered. "Or attempt to, at least. We'll see how well that works with _this_ useless appendage," he added, pulling out his right hand briefly. "I'll probably blow the place up if I try using my left hand to cast spells."

"I thought Dad was going to take you to St. Mungo's, to see if the Healers can do anything," Ron said questioningly.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, tomorrow afternoon after you lot get off to school. But I'm not expecting much to be done."

"So you're coming to Platform 9 ¾ with us tomorrow?" Ginny asked, appearing among them.

"Yeah," Harry replied. There was no excitement in his voice. "I swear, I've seen the inside of enough hospitals for the rest of my life," he muttered, rubbing his arm through the sleeve of his sweater. "I'm half-tempted to just write it all off and not go."

"But what if they _can _fix it, Harry?" Ron said quietly.

* * *

"Hey, Harry, nice to see you back!" Dean exclaimed in surprise as he and Seamus joined the trio of teens on the platform. "We'd all heard you'd been expelled."

"I _did_ get expelled," Harry replied matter-of-factly. "I _am_ expelled. No more school for me."

"So what are you doing here, then?" Seamus asked bluntly.

"I've got a Healer's appointment at St. Mungo's. Mr. Weasley's taking me in after the Express leaves," Harry said. "But would you guys do me a favour and raise hell for Umbridge for me? She sounds awful."

Dean and Seamus grimaced. "Only within the boundaries of the Educational Decrees," Seamus said. "I can't get expelled from Hogwarts, me mam would murder me herself."

"Fred and George left quite the legacy to live up to," Dean said with a grin. "I'll try my best. So what are you doing this year, then?"

Harry sighed and lied through his teeth. "Not much. Going back home and existing."

"That sucks," Dean said sympathetically.

* * *

"I don't understand, this _should've_ worked…" the Healer muttered to herself in bewilderment as she rapped his left arm sharply again. "What did the Muggles do to it?" she asked Harry.

"Put a metal rod in it," Harry replied. "You're going to have the same problem with my leg."

"That's barbaric, why would they do that?" both the Healer and Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

"Because that's how Muggles fix badly broken bones," Harry replied with a wry smile.

"Species of stone-age trolls…" the Healer muttered. She prodded his arm again, intoned a different spell and Harry let out a yell of pain as his bone cracked again – the rod had gone and the healing had been undone.

"Bloody _hell_…" Harry hissed as his eyes watered. The Healer rapped his arm again and the pain subsided as the bone healed properly.

"Brutal but necessary," she said briskly.

* * *

"So?" Sirius asked expectantly as Mr. Weasley dropped Harry off at Grimmauld Place again before leaving for the Ministry. "Thanks, Arthur."

Harry grinned in spite of himself and held up his hands, wiggling the fingers on both hands. "Good as new."

Sirius let out a shout of triumph and wrapped Harry into a tight hug, which was happily returned. "Told you – there's virtually nothing Healers can't fix."

"Where's Remus?" Harry asked.

"On something for Dumbledore," Sirius replied. "Just you, me and the toerag here."

Harry laughed. "Where _is_ Kreacher?"

"Off bemoaning the miserable end of the noble house of Black somewhere in this place," Sirius replied easily. "Come on, you hungry?"

"Starving," Harry replied, who indeed was hungrier than he had been in a long time.

"Aw, it won't be the opening-of-term feast, but I think between the two of us we can make a half-decent meal," Sirius laughed.

* * *

Remus came back a fortnight later, and sighed in mild disgust when he discovered that Sirius and Harry had done absolutely nothing in terms of schoolwork or anything vaguely resembling work.

"You can't brush it off forever, you two," he said with a half-smile. "Harry, be ready to work tomorrow by 9. No arguments, excuses, whining or stalling."

"Yes, _Professor_," Harry replied half-jokingly.

"Professor Not-Fun Lupin," Sirius added with a grin, ducking when Remus made to smack him across the head.

* * *

Harry sighed and tried desperately to focus his attention on the chapter he was supposed to be reading in his Transfiguration textbook. _When performing cross-species transfiguration, the windology_ – no, _wandology_, Harry corrected himself – _is of utmost impotence­ _– _importance_, not impotence, Harry thought – _as is the emancipation of the spool._

"_What_?" Harry muttered to himself. "What does that have _anything_ to do with it?" Sighing again, he continued reading. _As important as the first coursing is the colder-small, in which the grasser used primitively must be revitalized and the snail repeated with the admonition of 'finesse'._

"Okay, that made no sense whatsoever."

"What, Harry?" Remus asked, looking up from the _Daily Prophet_.

"Maybe I've just been reading for too long," Harry sighed, marking his place and closing the book.

"You've been reading for five minutes, Harry, you can't have even gotten past the first paragraph," Sirius pointed out calmly, absently transfiguring Remus' cup of coffee into various objects. "Open the book and finish the chapter."

"But it has absolutely nothing to do with transfiguration," Harry protested.

"Harry, it's a Transfiguration textbook, it has everything to do with transfiguration," Remus sighed. "Stop whining."

"Then _you_ explain to me what a corner-spoon has anything to do with it!" Harry exclaimed in frustration. "Is there even such a thing as a corner-spoon?"

"Unless you're reading the wrong chapter, there's nothing to do with spoons of any sort in cross-species transfiguration."

"It's right there, you can read it yourself," Harry said stubbornly.

Sirius sighed, left Remus' coffee as a bird hopping around on the table and went to read over Harry's shoulder. "Where are you?"

"'As impot – important as…'" Harry said, so occupied with trying to get the right words that he missed Remus putting down his paper, a frown making its way onto his face.

Sirius and Remus both exchanged a frown. "Keep going, Harry, I'm trying to find it," Sirius lied.

"Are you_ blind_?" Harry exclaimed, stabbing a finger at the second sentence. "It's right there!"

"Keep going any way, Harry," Remus repeated. "'As important as…'"

Harry sighed. "'As important as the final…'" he faltered. 'Final' couldn't be the right word.

"First," Sirius said quietly, heart sinking. "As important as the first casting…"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. "As important as the first casting is the…c-counter… counter-spi – counter-_spell_, in wha – in which the…"

"All right, Harry, that's good," Remus said softly. "Go take a break." Once Harry had stalked off from the kitchen, he looked at Sirius. "Apparently he inherited more than just her eyes."

"That's far worse than Lily ever was, though," Sirius replied quietly, a dark frown on his face.

"That we could see, any way," Remus reminded him. "She _did_ have a nasty habit of getting out of reading when she could. And I think James might've been… helping… a bit."

* * *

Harry swiped at his eyes in frustration. His entire primary school life, he had been brushed aside as an unmotivated student when he didn't read at the same level as the other children. None of the teachers had been willing to help him, and the one student teacher who had attempted had been reprimanded.

And then Hogwarts and Ron and Hermione… godsends. Little bits of reading didn't really bother him, particularly if they had concrete subjects, but theories and stories… pages and pages of roundabout reading… History… Hermione had saved his face more than once without even realizing it, just by reading over his papers.

And then last year. Hell all over again. And if Lupin and Sirius were going to make him do this… he couldn't do it, he couldn't lose the last shred of confidence he had left. Anxiously, nervously, Harry started picking at the cuff of his sleeve.

"Harry?" Sirius asked softly.

"Go away," Harry muttered.

"Harry, you should've said something," Sirius said gently, catching his godson's hand lightly and pulling it away from his sleeve. "Don't worry at your sleeve."

"What, that I'm 16, and I can't read?" Harry snapped angrily, whirling around. "And I'll worry at my sleeve if I _want_ to."

"Harry, it's not that you _can't_ read," Remus corrected, coming in behind Sirius. "You _can_, you just have a bit of trouble with it."

"A _bit_?" Harry exclaimed. "Remus, there's a different word every time I look at the page! And the word I _see_ isn't the word I _say_! I said so when I was _6_, all right? And nobody cared!"

"You knew that long ago?" Sirius asked quizzically, momentarily confused.

"Sirius, Muggles start school when they're 5," Remus reminded him quietly.

Harry sighed and said, "They decided that I got messed up, somehow, and that there was nothing they could do." When both men frowned at him, he explained, "Whenever people asked about my parents, my aunt and uncle used to tell them that they'd died in a car crash, and that that was where I'd gotten my scar from. And then people would ask what they did, and… they used to say that they had been unemployed, so a lot of people figured that 'unemployed' meant 'alcoholics who couldn't keep a job'. So some people thought that the car crash had… addled my brains, and others thought that Mum had just had a few too many drinks when she was pregnant with me."

In spite of their best efforts, Remus and Sirius snorted. "Alcoholics, James and Lily?" Remus scoffed. "I don't think I ever saw Lily drink anything even mildly stronger than Butterbeer. And we give that stuff to children."

Sirius laughed. "And James didn't even touch so much as Butterbeer since that one summer break." Both men laughed.

"What happened?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius snickered. "The perfect little boy over there suggested we break into your grandfather's liquor cabinet." When Remus flushed deep red, he grinned and continued, "Poor James. Liquor really didn't agree with him."

"Did you get found out?"

"Of course we did," Sirius said. "James was sick as a dog, Remus was crashing around the room, I wasn't exactly the tamest drunk 12-year-old in the world, Peter was out cold on the floor…"

"Your grandmother laughed and said, 'Boys will be boys'," Remus said with a slight smile. "Shoved some castor oil down our throats and sent us to bed. Then Mr. Potter threatened to tell our parents if we ever tried anything stupid like that ever again and James would get the hide whipped off of him."

"My parents would've skinned me alive if I'd ever tried that in _our _house," Sirius muttered. "But nah… Potters were really lenient with us. I think their theory was that boys just do stupid things, and eventually they mature into discerning young adults."

"Obviously they were wrong. I mean, look at Sirius," Remus cracked good-naturedly.

Harry laughed.

"Any way, getting back to the reason for this discussion, Harry," Remus continued.

"Don't make me do it," Harry begged pitifully.

Sirius grinned and scoffed, "Contrary to what our dear Professor Lupin thinks, you don't always need a book to learn." He laughed and ducked Remus' hand coming back around for a smack.

* * *

Once they had worked around the problem, the first half of the year seemed to fly by. Harry actually found it mildly amusing to watch Remus and Sirius bicker good-naturedly about what to teach him. Sirius was all for teaching him things he wouldn't have gotten otherwise at Hogwarts, and Remus was still insisting that he learn the same things that his classmates were learning. In the end, Remus did the Hogwarts stuff during the daytime and Sirius usually snuck in some renegade lessons that Remus 'didn't know about' in the evenings.

Remus still had reading for Harry to do, but they were in smaller chunks, and never theories unless they were absolutely necessary. Sirius laughed and said 'to hell with reading, that's not fun'. He found the practical mistakes much more hilarious than Harry did, when spells that weren't quite right wound up damaging various objects in the house.

One night, Harry was trying out a new Defense Against the Dark Arts spell in the hallway when it wound up exploding, lighting the curtained portrait on fire and burning a gaping hole right in Mrs. Black's face, leaving her shrieking in indignation.

"I-I-I-I didn't mean to," Harry stammered to Sirius as he and a few other Order members appeared at the foot of the stairs. Sirius started laughing when he saw what remained of the portrait, his mother's face glowering from an untouched corner of the canvas as it continued to smolder, and finally fell to the ground.

"Much improved, Harry, thank you," he said with a grin. "I've been trying to figure out how to get rid of that portrait for a year and a half." Giving his godson a one-armed affectionate hug, he said, "Now go do whatever it was you did to the portrait, in the sitting room and see if you can't burn the tapestry off the wall too."

Harry laughed and disappeared somewhere to resume his practice.

* * *

"I have to admit," Molly said grudgingly, "he _does_ seem happy."

"Thank you, Molly," Sirius said easily.

"Very good, Sirius," Remus laughed. "Not a single hint of an 'I told you so' in there." He and Sirius both exchanged grins just as another bang resounded from somewhere in the house. "What did you _not_ teach him, any way?"

"He is _not_ practicing the Draconus Curse," Sirius replied promptly.

Remus laughed again. "You _would_ not teach him that one."

"Potter classic, my dear boy. James pretty much brought that spell back into use. He's almost got the hang of it," Sirius added when a bang was accompanied by a faint roar. "Just gotta get rid of the bang."

"Are you teaching him _anything_ resembling what he'd be learning in school?" Molly asked in exasperation. "Draconus is definitely _not_ in Hogwarts curriculum."

"Remus does all the Hogwarts stuff," Sirius said. "I don't teach him a thing."

"Then how did he learn the Draconus?" Molly asked dryly.

"All right, fine, so I look the other way and pretend not to notice when he's teaching Harry this stuff," Remus sighed. "I can't bring myself to stop them, they're having too much fun doing it."

A clear, powerful roar resounded through the house, quickly followed by Harry's shout of triumph.

"It's useful stuff," Sirius defended. "If you'll recall, Remus Lupin, that Draconus saved your life once."

"I wasn't saying that it's not useful."

* * *

Christmas came before they knew it. The snowy street outside Grimmauld Place made both Sirius and Harry antsy to go outside, but Remus sternly forbade them. Instead, he plotted and one day, Harry woke up to find the sitting room cleared of all furniture and filled with snow.

"Well, if we can't go out to the snow, the snow will just have to come in to us," Sirius said with a grin, before he chucked a snowball at Harry. "I declare winter break has officially started. The professor is gone."

It was almost as good as being outside: the snow didn't melt, and the temperature in the sitting room was equal to what was outside.

One day, as he and Sirius had gotten into a wild snowball fight, Harry yelped as somebody's cold hand shoved a handful of snow down the back of his collar. Whirling around, he laughed as he saw the Weasley clan and Hermione. "All right, who did that?" he demanded.

In answer, he was bombarded from all sides by snowballs. The sitting room became a flurry of snow and boisterous laughter as the teens all started in on their fight. Sirius quickly slipped out, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

* * *

"Merlin, that's so _cool_!" Ron laughed as he and Harry were changing into dry clothes. "Mum would've throttled us if we'd ever turned _our_ sitting room into a snow haven."

Stripping off his shirt, Harry grinned at him. "Yeah, well, I think Lupin decided that it was either that or Sirius and I were going to break out of the house. He chose the lesser of the two evils." He rifled through his drawers, finally exclaiming, "I don't believe it! I don't have a single sweater in here."

"Sorry, mate, I only brought one," Ron apologized, pulling on his own.

"Yeah, it's all right," Harry said distractedly, fishing out a t-shirt. "I think there's a clean one somewhere in the house."

"Merlin's beard, Harry, what happened to your arm?" Ron exclaimed, as Harry was pulling his shirt over his head. Harry looked up questioningly as he finished putting on his shirt. Ron grabbed his left arm and turned it over – it was covered in scars both large and small, and healed-over needle marks in the crook of his elbow. The scar from fourth year was on that arm, one of the suicide scars on that wrist, the scar from the Muggle surgery to put the rod in his arm…

Harry pursed his lips in morbid memory and pulled his arm out from Ron's hand self-consciously. "If you think that's bad, you ought to have seen them when they were fresh," he said quietly.

"Merlin, Harry…" Ron said, face pale.

Sirius appeared in the doorway just then along with Hermione and Ginny, tossing a sweater at Harry. "Oy, stop leaving your stuff everywhere," he said with a grin.

"I'll stop when you do," Harry shot back, pulling the sweater over his head before anybody else noticed the scars. "By the way, if you're looking for your burgundy robes, they're in the drawing room. Kreacher's going to shred them and take them for his den if you don't get them soon."

"Kreacher's not going to take his disgraceful master's clothes, oh no, Kreacher's a good house-elf," Kreacher muttered as he came past, rubbing his old hands together. "What would Kreacher's mistress say if he stole from the noble house of Black, Kreacher would get clothes for certain. For thirty generations, Kreacher's family serves the noble house of Black…"

"Shut _up_, Kreacher!" Sirius snapped. Then, mildly peeved, he stalked off. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Ron, who was still in shock.

"Ron, what's the matter?" Hermione asked worriedly, as she and Ginny came in to join the two boys.

"Listen, Ron, it's not a big deal anymore, all right?" Harry said quietly. "C'mon, I think I hear your mum calling us." He paused and looked at his best friend. "I wouldn't lie to you, Ron, you're my best mate. It's fine."

Finally, Ron nodded and they took off for the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was reaming out Sirius for the snow haven. Upon seeing Harry, though, she ceased. "Harry, dear, you look none the worse for the wear despite _somebody's_ rather lax approach to guardianship." She glowered at Sirius, who shrugged easily and shook his hair out of his face. "Snow in the sitting room, honestly, it's a miracle you haven't died of cold…"

"Actually, Molly, snow in the sitting room was _my_ idea," came Remus' sheepish admission from the kitchen door.

"You?" Molly asked imperiously. "I thought you were more sensible than that, Remus."

"There's a lot about Remus that you don't know, Molly," Sirius snickered, "though I'd be happy to divulge some of his more… intrepid ideas. Like there was this one time, during summer break after first year – "

"That's quite all right, Sirius, she doesn't need to hear that one," Remus cut him off abruptly, a blush crossing his face.

"Oh, but I find it funny," Sirius said with a grin. "You see, our perfectly-behaved prefect-to-be came up with the brilliant idea of – "

"Say any more and I will curse your head off," Remus threatened good-naturedly.

" – let's just say we learnt our lesson about liquor cabinets and why they're locked from kids," Sirius finished.

As a roar of laughter erupted, Remus shot a well-aimed curse at Sirius' back and his head did, indeed, disappear.

* * *

Molly couldn't help but laugh – they _did_ so remind her of Gideon and Fabian when they acted like this.

And as she watched Harry, eyes sparkling and bright, face a healthy hue and filled out as he laughed with her own kids and fixed Sirius' head; she had to admit that, despite their rather unconventional attitudes, Sirius and Remus had worked wonders. He seemed more like a normal 16-year-old boy now and less like an adult in a boy's body.

Of course, Harry had seen too much and been through too much to ever be just 'normal'. Doubtlessly there still lurked a hurting, frightened boy somewhere beneath the cheerful exterior, but for right now it was good enough to have him masked.

* * *

"Harry," Hermione asked as she dogged his steps out of the kitchen after dinner. "What were you and Ron talking about earlier?"

"It was nothing, Hermione, don't worry about it," Harry replied, dropping into an armchair.

"Right, like the paralysis was nothing?" Hermione replied, eyes boring into him. "Like the depression was nothing? Like the cutting, the drugs, that kind of nothing?"

Harry tightened his jaw and finally said, "He caught sight of an arm and freaked out. That's all." He pulled and picked at the cuffs of his sweater sleeves uncomfortably, anxiety starting to well up. He had already put that monster to rest, why were they bringing it up again? Merlin, he hadn't been this upset in months… he didn't want to have to try and explain what he was thinking when he had inflicted the injuries, didn't want to talk about what had happened the last time he had been in number 4, Privet Drive, didn't want to tell them about the worst year of his life. "Leave it alone, all right?"

"Well, Harry, you've never exactly been upfront about the scars," Hermione said quietly. "I don't think Ron quite realized the extent to which it had gone. It's not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside, Harry." She reached over and pulled his hand away from his sleeve. "And you'll ruin your sleeve if you keep that up."

"Quit mothering me, Hermione, I get that enough as it is," Harry said curtly.

"Then why don't you quit acting like you're the only one who had a horrible year?" Hermione replied coldly. "Contrary to most people seem to think, including yourself, you're not the only person in the world. _Other_ people went sick with worry over you, you know, and not just Sirius because he _had_ to be."

* * *

Harry laughed softly as he stroked Buckbeak's head. The Hippogriff bumped his head gently against Harry's face, almost purring in contentment. "Yeah, you don't care at all who I am or what I've done, do you?" he said to Buckbeak. "Just so long as I feed you dead things and stroke your head, you're fine with it, aren't you?"

"Harry?" Sirius asked softly, opening the door. Harry looked up briefly and then returned his attention to Buckbeak. "Harry, talk to me." He bowed briefly to Buckbeak, got the okay to approach, and sat down on the other side of the Hippogriff. "What happened with you and Hermione tonight?"

"Nothing," Harry replied shortly, feeding Buckbeak another piece of raw meat.

"I think you're lying," Sirius said. "Who said what to whom?"

"I _said_ nothing happened," Harry repeated.

"And _I_ said you're lying," Sirius said, "so we've got a bit of a problem here now, don't we?" He sighed. "Listen, all Hermione said to me was that she'd said something and she was scared you'd taken it the wrong way." When Buckbeak turned from Harry to nuzzle Sirius affectionately, he said, "Hey, Buckbeak, old pal." Sighing again, Sirius persisted. "Harry…"

"Did she tell you _what_ she'd said?" Harry asked softly, trying to hide the tears that were starting to slip down his cheek.

"No," Sirius said. "I don't really need to know, any way. Come here for a second."

* * *

"I should go apologize," Hermione said guiltily, starting to get up from her chair.

"Leave them," Remus said firmly.

"I didn't mean it to come out that way, Remus," she insisted. "I have to let Harry know that."

"But it did come out that way," Remus said. "Let Sirius take care of it."

* * *

Sirius watched the tortured face of his godson, heart breaking. "Merlin, Harry…" he said, brushing his hand against Harry's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"What are _you_ sorry for?" Harry said gruffly, swiping at his eyes. "You didn't do anything."

"Exactly," Sirius said. "I didn't do anything for you right when you needed me the most. I'm still paying for it."

"What are you talking about, Sirius?" Harry asked.

"The night James and Lily died," Sirius said, and now there were tears in his eyes too. "When Hagrid wouldn't give you to me, and he said that Dumbledore had told him not to give you to anybody, not even me. I never should've gone after Peter."

"You were angry and you weren't thinking straight," Harry said quietly. "Hardly anybody would do different."

"But that's just it," Sirius continued. "I wasn't thinking straight. If I had been thinking at _all_, I wouldn't have gone after Peter, I would've gone to Dumbledore. But I was too caught up in how angry _I_ was, how upset _I_ was. I wasn't thinking about _you_. Merlin…" He sighed and rubbed his forehead as the memories started coming back. "You were crying, trying to get away from Hagrid and come to me and your face… you still had blood on your face. Merlin… I should've been thinking about what _you_ needed me to do. And all I could think about was how badly I wanted Peter to _pay_ for what he'd done to you." Sirius shook his head. "I had twelve years in Azkaban to regret that. And when I got out… I swore to myself I wouldn't make that mistake again. I was twelve years too late. You'd grown up and learned how to fend for yourself. You didn't need me anymore."

"That's not true," Harry said softly.

"And you were _happy_," Sirius said, voice cracking a little. "You were happy without me. So I thought… I thought if I could just get Peter away from you, if I could do that much, that I would've done what was best for you."

Harry shook his head again.

"And then last year…" Sirius trailed off. "Merlin… I can't even put that feeling into words. All I knew was that you weren't _here_, with _me_, where you belong and the longer it went on, the more scared I got that I'd lost you again. That I'd failed you again and I'd spent twelve _more_ years paying for it." He sighed. "Merlin, I've been a terrible godfather, haven't I?"

"I don't think so," Harry said quietly. "I think you're a great godfather."

"Yeah, well, look what you have to compare me to," Sirius muttered. "At least I would never lay a hand on you." He sighed again.

"I think it's me that's been a terrible godson," Harry mumbled. "At least you never stopped caring and didn't get into the habit of destroying yourself."

"Harry," Sirius said firmly, "don't talk like that. Yes, we both made mistakes. Big mistakes _and_ little mistakes." He pushed a lock of hair out of Harry's face, eyes steady with Harry's. "But that doesn't change the fact that we're a family. We've always been a family. I still love you just as much as I did sixteen years ago when you were born, regardless of what I've done or you've done."

Harry bit his lower lip. Then he broke down and sobbed as Sirius wrapped him into a tight hug, soothing him in a soft voice like he had that horrible night fifteen years ago.

_

* * *

_

"Sius!" Harry sobbed, reaching out for him. "Sius, come!"

_"I can' give him ter yeh, Sirius, Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid said firmly, tightening his hold on Harry._

_Sirius' head was spinning. James and Lily were dead, and Peter was responsible for it. Harry's head was still bleeding, his tears mixing with his blood. He was screaming for Sirius._

_Peter had to pay._

_But not while Harry was crying like this. "Can I hold him, Hagrid?" he asked shakily. "I promise I won't make a run for it. Please… I just want to hold him."_

"_All right," Hagrid said reluctantly, passing the tiny boy to him._

"_Sius, come," Harry sobbed, little fingers immediately latching onto his robes. "Sius, come."_

"_Yeah, that's right," Sirius soothed, cuddling his little godson close. "Sirius came. Sirius is here." Gently, he started to rub Harry's back as he began a familiar walk. "Calm down. Calm down. I won't let anybody hurt you," he whispered. "Never."_

_Once Harry had dropped off to sleep, Sirius half-considered taking off with Harry. But Hagrid was starting to get uneasy, and he reclaimed Harry. "I got ter bring him ter his aunt and uncle's, Sirius. Dumbledore's waitin' fer him."_

Lily's_ sister? Dumbledore was going to condemn _his_ godson to life with those…? Something inside of Sirius, the last shred of self-control he possessed, snapped. "Take my bike, Hagrid. You'll make better time." He paused, trying to regain control of his raging emotions. "And if Harry wakes up, he always falls back asleep soon enough when he's on the bike. He likes being on the bike." He was rambling. 'Merlin, Sirius, get a hold on yourself!' he thought in disgust._

"_But Sirius, how are yeh goin' ter git back home?" Hagrid asked._

"_I don't need it," Sirius replied. "I'll Apparate or something."_

_Once Hagrid had taken off with Harry securely tucked against him, Sirius left. He didn't know how, but he was going to find Peter and the little rat was going to pay for what he'd done. Voldemort at his highest point would have nothing on Sirius Nigellus Black._

_Oh, Peter would regret that he had ever even thought about going to the Dark side…_

* * *

Not a soul had gone to bed when Sirius and Harry came back down to the kitchen, despite the late hour.

"You all right?" Remus asked, looking first at Harry and then at Sirius. They both nodded quietly. "Okay, then. Have some coffee."

"Harry…" Hermione started to say.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione, it's fine," Harry replied.

"Sirius!" Molly exclaimed, startling the quiet kitchen.

"What?" Sirius asked, looking up from his doctoring of two coffees.

"You realize you just put liqueur in Harry's coffee?"

"Yeah," Sirius replied. "Honestly, it's a couple of drops, Molly. Barely flavours it, let alone have any sort of effect."

"Ai…" Molly moaned. "What next? Harry, do not drink that," she ordered in a very maternal tone, stabbing a finger in his direction.

"Mrs. Weasley, I've been drinking that for months," Harry laughed.

"No fair!" Ron exclaimed. "_I_ want some!"

"Absolutely not!" Molly said imperiously, glowering at all of her younger children with such command that Fred and George didn't dare ask for some, and even Bill and Charlie looked a little nervous about asking.

Hermione and Ginny broke the awkward silence with a discussion about something Professor Flitwick had done in Charms last term.

"Harry, you have that Charms paper for me, while I'm thinking about it?" Remus asked.

Both Sirius and Harry froze. "There was a Charms paper?" Harry asked carefully, while Sirius started to slink away before Remus noticed.

"Yes," Remus replied, a knowing look in his eyes. "You didn't do it, did you?" Harry shook his head slowly. "You guys don't do _any_ work at all when I'm gone, do you?" Again, Harry shook his head. "I thought so."

Sirius had just left when Remus shot a curse at his back. "Ow!" Sirius howled, and a return curse whizzed back into the kitchen and struck Bill.

"Ow!" Bill said indignantly, glowering at his snickering brothers and sister. "What did _I_ do?"

Sirius' head reappeared in the kitchen for a moment. "Sorry, Bill, I was aiming for Remus." He reshot the curse, struck Remus this time, and disappeared before Remus could retaliate.

"My goodness…" Molly muttered. "Honestly, the both of you, you'd think you were 15 and not 30-something."

"Fink," Sirius hissed good-naturedly at Harry from around the corner. Harry laughed and jokingly pointed his wand at him. "Don't you point your wand at _me_, you child!"

"You're one to talk," Harry and Remus both laughed.

"Who is the mature one in this house?" Molly demanded, though with a hint of laughter in her eyes.

"Buckbeak," Sirius, Harry and Remus all said in unison.

"Merlin, you're going to blow yourselves up one of these days," Molly groaned.

"But we're going to have a hell of a good time doing it," Sirius replied with a grin, dropping back into his chair easily.

* * *

"No fair," Ron said jealously to Harry that night as they were getting ready for bed. "_I_ want to go to school here. This is _much_ more fun."

"I miss real school, though," Harry said with a sigh as he changed into his pajamas. "It gets sort of lonely. I mean, Remus and Sirius are both doing Order stuff in the evenings and the meetings are all here and I'm not allowed in…"

"Yeah, I see your point," Ron agreed. "At least at Hogwarts there's more to do."

"Quidditch," Harry sighed. "I _really_ miss Quidditch."

"We could use you this year," Ron sighed in agreement. "Katie's the only one left from the original line-up, and Ginny and I are the only ones who carried over from last year. Katie's captain, but she's not really keen on it. Says you would've made much better a captain, and I have to agree."

"Don't torment me," Harry said dismally. "It's Christmas Eve."

"All right, sorry."

* * *

Christmas morning was quite unlike any that they'd experienced before. It was loud, unruly and 'quite incredible', as Molly put it with an affectionate roll of her eyes. It probably didn't help that while the younger set were usually wound up on Christmas day, Sirius and Remus' exuberance just exaggerated it.

There was laughter everywhere in the house as gifts were exchanged. Harry was listening intently to Ron and Hermione and Ginny recount the stories from the past term, laughing in all the right spots. Sirius and Remus and Fred and George were trying to decide who had caused the more mayhem during their Hogwarts years. Bill and Fleur had shown up. Nymphadora Tonks had shown up with a couple of the other Order members.

* * *

"Look at her," Hermione said softly to the other teens, nodding slightly in Tonks' direction. "You can't tell who she fancies."

Harry and Ron glanced blankly at each other, while Ginny smiled and laughed.

"Oh, honestly, you two, you're _not_ that thick," Hermione said impatiently. "Harry, you're here all the time, you don't notice at _all_?"

"I'm not allowed in the meetings," Harry protested. "I see them coming in and I see them coming out."

"It's perfectly obvious," Ginny said.

"Would you quit being vague and tell us already?" Ron asked irritably.

"Oh, Merlin, you _are_ that thick," Hermione and Ginny groaned as one.

"So what are we discussing over here?" Sirius asked smoothly, coming up behind the teens.

"Hermione and Ginny are being stupidly girlish," Ron grumbled. "All this rubbish about fancying…"

"Who are we talking about?" Sirius asked the girls, who gave brief nods in Tonks' direction again. "Ah, yes, that. That's been going on for a while. I've been seriously considering intervening in that particular scenario."

"Intervening?" Ginny asked sharply. "Why would you be intervening?"

"Don't you _dare_ intervene, Sirius," Hermione warned.

"Maybe 'meddling' is a better word for it," Sirius amended.

"You don't _meddle_ in these things, Sirius!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You do in this case," Sirius laughed, "Because nothing will happen otherwise. Well, I'm only meddling on the one end, really…"

"Can _someone_ explain here?" Ron asked in exasperation. Harry was watching Tonks for a moment, watching where her eyes subtly followed, when he finally exclaimed,

"Oh! All right, now I get it. Yeah, that needs some meddling." He and Sirius grinned at each other.

"I don't get it," Ron repeated.

Hermione sighed in disgust. "Never mind, Ronald."

"Don't you two go and wreck it, now," Ginny said warningly to Sirius and Harry.

"Us? Wreck it?" Sirius asked.

"Why, Ginny, I'm mortally wounded by that insinuation," Harry added. "Why would we wreck it?"

"Wreck what?" came Remus' voice behind Harry.

"Nothing," they all said quickly.

* * *

At dinner that evening, the kitchen was loud and active. It was astounding that anybody managed to make themselves understood in the chaos.

"Harry – Harry, stop it!" Hermione shrieked as he and Ron were flicking little bits of stuffing at her. "Ronald!"

"Oh, excellent, food-fight!" Fred and George both exclaimed in unison, grinning. Ginny laughed and ducked just as her older brothers started directing various pieces at her. Bill and Charlie laughed and joined in, aiming at both parties – Fred, George and Ginny, and Ron, Hermione and Harry.

"All of you, stop it!" Molly roared. "Sirius, help me here, it's _yours_ that started it!"

Sirius looked up. "Sorry, Molly?" His eyes sparkled as he watched the teens.

"You're supposed to tell Harry off for starting a food fight," Tonks told him from across the table.

"Oh. Harry, really." Sirius paused. "At least throw the gravy with it."

Molly groaned. "Why do I even bother with you? Remus…"

Remus held up his hands, with a slight grin. "Not my house, not my godson."


	9. Love In The Air

**CHAPTER 8: LOVE IN THE AIR**

Christmas ended way too soon for Harry. The Weasleys all returned to school and their normal lives, and Remus went right back into Harry's schooling. He'd managed to get through the fifth year curriculum in the first part of the year, so now it was a matter of finishing the sixth year curriculum in the last part so that he could catch up with his classmates.

* * *

"But I _don't_ get it!" Harry snapped in frustration at Remus. Throwing his quill down onto the table, he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. "Sorry, Remus, I didn't mean to shout."

"Yes, you did," Remus replied curtly, taking a deep breath himself in an attempt to calm down. He and Harry had been struggling to get through this Transfiguration unit – unfortunately, it was a no-spell process, but imperative to a number of later NEWT-level spells. Harry had been irritable lately, he had his 'pre-full moon temper', as Sirius and James had always called it, and to top it all off, he had the idea that Sirius was trying to set him up with Tonks, and _that_ frustrated him as well – hadn't Sirius known him long enough and well enough to know that Remus did not, _would not_, let himself love someone?

Sirius, speak of the devil, came in at that moment. He took one look at them and said, "All right, break it up. You've been going at this since 8 this morning. Take a break." Harry immediately stormed off, muttering obscenities under his breath. "You just _had_ to push him, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Sirius," Remus muttered. "I'm not pleased with you, either, right now. And you know damn well why."

"You're being a stubborn ass, Remus," Sirius said bluntly. "Don't bother lying to me about how you don't care at all, because I see right through it. You _do_ care about her, and _that's_ what scares you. You still think that every woman is going to treat you like Sarah."

"Shut up, Sirius," Remus said tersely, as the sting of that accusation struck him right where it hurt.

"You got hurt. Deal with it, that's the way life rolls. Not everybody gets a fairytale first time around like James did. And _it _wasn't exactly fairy tale either."

"Sirius…" Remus repeated, almost pleadingly now. "_Please_."

"Remus, enough. That was 17 years ago. Don't let her wreck your whole life. And _don't_ take your frustration with yourself out on Harry."

* * *

Harry had calmed down not long after he'd left the room, but he sensed that Sirius and Remus didn't want to be interrupted, so he slid down to the ground to wait. They'd closed the door, so he couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was likely to do with Tonks. She'd been strangely quiet at the meetings (Sirius had finally let him come in back in January) lately, her hair had been much more tame as of late and Harry got the idea that she was upset about something. Probably because Remus kept being so stubborn about her.

Maybe he'd wait until Easter break, to see if one of the Weasleys could help him out with this Transfiguration thing. Usually between him and Ron, they could muddle their way through a theory.

Sighing, he looked up only when the front door opened and a crash sounded in the front hall.

"That _damn_ hatrack!" Tonks hissed irritably, hopping off to the side to let the rest of the Order come in. "I _always_ manage to smack into it."

"Merlin's beard, Tonks, and you managed your Auror's test _how_?" Mad-Eye growled.

"Sheer dumb luck and a genetic mutation called Metamorphmagy," Tonks replied, rubbing her foot woefully. "I think I broke my foot."

"You're fine, suck it up," Mad-Eye returned gruffly.

"You'd think I was still your trainee, the way you talk to me," Tonks grumbled, shaking her hair out of her eyes. It was still the same unhappy brown that it had been for the past week. "Wotcher, Harry, what are you doing out here?"

"They've booted me out. I think they're arguing," Harry replied, getting to his feet.

"Well, the meeting starts in five minutes, they'll have to put it on hold," Kingsley declared, pushing open the door just in time to see Sirius and Remus facing off, wands drawn and identical snarls of irritation on their faces.

"Yeah, I'd say they're having a row," Tonks said with a slight smile.

"I can't leave you alone _ever_, can I?" Harry said with a laugh, ducking inside first.

* * *

After the meeting had disbanded, most of the members went straight home – it was a stormy night, after all. Only Tonks remained, biting at her lower lip.

Sirius almost dragged Harry out of the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "Leave them alone a moment. I might've actually broken through his thick skull tonight."

* * *

"I'm dying to know what's going on," Harry said plaintively, casting another glance at the staircase.

"Let it a little longer," Sirius advised.

* * *

Remus groaned as he slowly woke up, a little disoriented. Was he at Grimmauld Place? No, he wouldn't have been, Dumbledore wanted him back out at the werewolf colony today. So he was at home.

A soft moan from beside him brought him abruptly back into present time. Merlin, that was _not _what he'd planned on doing last night. _Now_ what was he supposed to say to her?

But as she nestled closer into his side, he realized that her hair was back to normal. It was a rather cheerful, light shade of red now, rather than the depressing-looking brown that it had been. Sighing, he tried to slide away without waking her.

"No, don't go," she moaned, finally waking up.

"Dora, I have to," he murmured warningly, laying a light kiss on her lips. That only resulted in her wrapping her arms around his neck and trying to pull him back down, though she didn't meet very much resistance.

Maybe Sirius was right (Merlin, what a terrifying thought!). Maybe he'd been so scared of being hurt again that he didn't take the risk. Maybe it was time for him to stop being so cautious, so structured. Spontaneity had been good for him, in his younger years. Maybe it was worth it to risk losing his heart again.

* * *

"I'm _dying_ of curiosity!" Harry groaned as he looked out the window again.

"Harry, he's gone back out to the colony, he won't be back for weeks," Sirius laughed. "Come work on some Charms for a while."

"Since when are you the responsible professor?" Harry laughed back.

"Since Remus and I both decided we needed to absorb a little bit of each other. He needed some spontaneity and I needed structure," Sirius shrugged. "C'mon, we'll ignore that Tranfiguration bit."

"Fine, but I warn you, I won't be able to concentrate until I find out what happened."

Just as Harry had sat down at the desk to look over his text, the door opened and a familiar crash sounded. There was a howl of pain and frustration from Tonks, quickly followed by a blast.

"Did you _actually _just blow that up?" Sirius called in astonishment, taking off for the entrance.

"I'm tired of crashing into it," she complained, coming into the sitting room a moment later. Her hair was back to normal, a vibrant green, short and spiked; and there was a sparkle in her eyes, though they were still tinged with red.

"I take it last night went well, then?" Sirius asked with a laugh.

"You could say that," she replied mysteriously, sighing as she dropped down onto one of the couches. "What are you doing?"

"Charms," Harry replied. "So? Tell us what happened."

"Mmm, I think I know what happened," Sirius said with a grin, raising his eyebrows suggestively at Tonks, who merely shrugged noncommittally. "Come on, cousin dearest, we're all adults or close to here."

"I'm not giving you the dirty details, Sirius," Tonks said with a laugh, shaking her head. "Go back to your Charms." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "I've got about five hours before my shift starts. What are you doing?"

"Learning messenger charms," Harry replied. "Remus thinks I can learn this pretty quickly, since I know how to do a Patronus."

"Yeah, should hardly take you any time at all," Tonks confirmed in unison with Sirius.

_

* * *

_Remus sighed. "You're going to be taking the mickey out of me for a very long time for this, aren't you?" he asked Sirius, who gave him a wicked grin.

"Oh, yes. Until the day you die, Lupin," Sirius replied with a cackle.

"She's coming for dinner, if you're curious," Harry added, leaning back in his chair and flicking his wand at the stove.

"Didn't tell her you were back."

"Wanted to see her expression for ourselves."

"Should be arriving in about five minutes."

"Thank you, the tag team of Padfoot and Prongs," Remus said dryly.

"He's more of a mini-Prongs, actually," Sirius commented, laughing when Harry chucked a towel at him. The front door opened and Tonks' call came echoing through the house.

"Sirius? Harry?"

"Kitchen, Tonks!" they both answered in unison, Harry yelping and dodging the towel being thrown back at him.

"Oh, no, you're not doing the back-door slink, Lupin," Sirius said, flicking his wand at the door to block it when Remus started to edge towards it. "Be a man and talk to her, you're not 16 any more."

She appeared in the doorway just then, and her entire face seemed to light up when she spotted Remus. He gave her a cautious smile, startled when she returned it in full.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione and Ginny both shrieked excitedly that night as the Weasleys arrived at Grimmauld Place. Laughing, the two girls flung their arms around him, as the Weasley brothers all rolled their eyes.

"Hey, Hermione. Hey, Ginny," Harry greeted indulgently. "Hey, Ron. Fred, George, how's it going?"

"My goodness, Harry dear, do they feed you at all?" came Mrs Weasley's fussing, as she swatted aside her children lightly and enveloped Harry in a tight hug.

"Why am I always the bad guy around here?" Sirius grumbled goodnaturedly.

"Where's Remus and Tonks?" Ginny asked, looking around.

"Left earlier," Harry said casually, as Sirius stifled another snicker. "Had some... catching-up to do."

"Had some snogging to catch up on, more likely," Sirius muttered.

"Ugh! Sirius, I could've done without that picture!" Ron groaned. "You're, like, _old_! You're not supposed to be snogging! Ugh, blegh..." he shuddered.

"Well, I'm not the one snogging!" Sirius said indignantly. "And what do you mean, _old_?"

"Well, you're, like, 40, aren't you?"

"37, thanks, and only just!"

"Everybody stop it, and come into the kitchen for some dinner!" Molly announced. "Harry, dear, have plenty to eat, I really don't think this godfather of yours feeds you, you're wasting away before my eyes..."

"Molly, everybody's wasting away before your eyes..." Sirius protested. "Trust me, the kid eats more than Tonks, Moony and I combined!"

"Explain how he's skin and bones, then!..."

"It's the Potter in him, they're all skinny little..."


	10. A Destiny to Fulfill

**Chapter 9: A Destiny To Fulfill**

"So what's the deal with this Umbridge character?" Harry asked one fine July evening as the Weasleys and Hermione had joined them for dinner at Grimmauld Place.

"Don't even speak the name of Dolores Umbridge around me," Remus said darkly from across the table. Tonks stepped on his foot none too subtly and looked at him warningly.

"We've already told you, Harry, she's a complete maniac," Ron said in exasperation. "She's completely overridden Dumbledore for control of the school, she's already expelled the Creeveys and Dean for sticking up for you... the only reason she hasn't expelled us is because we haven't been caught red-handed yet."

"Castle's in chaos," Ginny agreed.

"No, I know, but I don't get who she _is_. I mean, how is she overriding _Dumbledore_?"

"Umbridge," Tonks spoke up quietly, "is the Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge. She was the one who pushed through the Werewolf Legislation in 1994."

"But how is she overriding _Dumbledore_?" Harry asked again.

"The Ministry has been butting into Hogwarts affairs for the last few years," Remus said. "They've enacted laws, legislations that let them decide who gets hired, who stays hired, what gets taught and who gets accepted..."

"It won't be long before they exclude Muggleborns," Hermione agreed softly. "As the High Inquisitor, Umbridge has almost total control, and Fudge lets her do whatever she wants."

"So what's the whole purpose of the Headmaster, then, if it's the Inquisitor who has the power?" Harry asked.

"He's an administrator, really," Sirius sighed. "He's there just in case Umbridge tries something truly nasty."

* * *

"Just one moment, Harry, Sirius, Remus," Dumbledore spoke up quietly the next night, following the end of another Order meeting. "I'd like to discuss something with you."

The three named men sat back down slowly, Tonks staying stubbornly where she was. "I'm staying too," she said without hesitation, casting an I-dare-you-to-kick-me-out look at Remus.

"It is ultimately up to them if they want you to remain here, Nymphadora," Dumbledore said reasonably.

"Aw, let her stay, it'll save her tedious interrogation later," Sirius sighed. "What's this all about, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It's about the prophecy."

"The one Voldemort wants?" Harry asked, as Remus leaned forward, frowning as he watched Dumbledore carefully. "The one that's supposed to be about him and I, but nobody knows what it says?"

"Yes, that one," Dumbledore affirmed. "Although your description isn't entirely accurate. One person knows what it says in its entirety: myself. It was told to me in 1979, around Christmastime, if my old mind still serves me right."

"What about the prophecy?" Sirius asked sharply.

Dumbledore sighed again. "I think, given the current circumstances, that it may be prudent to pass on the knowledge of that prophecy."

Sirius, Remus and Harry all exchanged glances. "What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked carefully.

"I mean, Harry," Dumbledore said, "that you cannot remain ignorant of what was said for the rest of your life."

"Why not?" Remus spoke up quietly. "Why should he know? The Department of Mysteries is full of unheard prophecies which never came to pass, isn't it?"

"That's true, Remus," Dumbledore replied quietly. "But the problem is that Voldemort is already aware of a portion of the prophecy, and it's no longer safe to keep it under wraps."

"But why do you have to tell him _now_?" Sirius demanded hotly. "He's still – "

"Because, Sirius," Dumbledore cut him off, "Harry is old enough, and at very least mature enough, to handle what it says. Regardless of what any of us may want to believe, he is almost 17, and has come through more than any other boy his age."

"Sirius, I want to hear it," Harry said quietly.

"Ugh, I _know_ you do, that's besides the point…" Sirius groaned, setting his forehead in his hands momentarily. "All right, fine, go on with it, then," he grumbled as Dumbledore sighed and waved his wand momentarily.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

There was silence in the kitchen. Then Tonks spoke up, albeit a little tentatively. "That seems sort of woolly to me. I mean, that could practically be anyone, right?"

"Thanks for trying, Tonks," Sirius sighed as he rubbed his forehead again. "But it's not half as woolly as it seems."

"'Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…'" Remus murmured, closing his eyes momentarily. "How many people back then fit that…"

"Two, if we're going to be precise," Dumbledore said quietly, sitting down across the table from the four. "Harry and Neville. Although it's rather obvious by now which one he marked."

* * *

"Hey, Harry, what'd Dumbledore want?" Ron asked curiously as Harry entered his room, still reeling slightly from the severity of Dumbledore's revelation.

"Oh, um, just needed to discuss something with Sirius and Remus and I," Harry replied truthfully, dropping down onto his bed. "You staying here still?"

"Yeah, I'd rather not hang around the Burrow, if you know what I mean," Ron yawned. "All the wedding stuff going on, a guy can't so much as sit down a second without being handed something else to do."

* * *

The day of Harry's 17th birthday, he was rather rudely awakened by Sirius creating a ruckus in the kitchen. The sounds of Remus and Tonks both laughing (whether with him or at him was as of yet uncertain) echoed up the stairs as well.

"Good Merlin, who's being murdered down there?" Ron groaned drowsily, slowly pulling himself upright as Harry groped for his glasses on the bedside table.

"I dunno. Sounds like a party, though…" Harry yawned, shoving his glasses onto his nose and dragging himself out of the room. "C'mon, let's go see."

* * *

"What's going on?" Harry asked with a yawn, wandering into the kitchen. "We can hear you clear on the third floor."

"Ha! You tell him, Remus!" Sirius crowed happily, dropping into a chair and leaning back. "Happy birthday, Harry, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah, what's going on?" Harry asked again, directing his question at Remus.

Remus sighed with a slight smile at Tonks, who was perched on the countertop and positively beaming. "We – that is, Dora and I – are going to have a baby."

Harry was struck dumb momentarily before he laughed at the astonished look dawning on Ron's face at the reasonably-new wedding ring on Tonks' finger.

"Damn, you miss so much when you go to school!" Ron exclaimed. "When the hell – "

"Oh, God, Ron, it's been, like, a month!" Tonks laughed. "Anybody feeling like actually eating breakfast this morning?" she asked as she jumped down to the ground again.

"Me!" both Harry and Ron said immediately.

"Well, you'd best get on it, then, because it'll be lunch by the time you finish up at this rate," Remus said with a smile.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked indignantly. "It's _my_ birthday! I shouldn't have to cook my own breakfast today!"

"Well, considering neither Remus or I can operate a stove to any decent ability," Sirius said lightly.

"And I'm not allowed to operate anything that can't be controlled by magic in this place," Tonks added cheerfully.

"That leaves you two," Remus finished.

"Oh, screw this, I'm going home," Ron muttered darkly. "Mum'll have plenty of breakfast left."

"Bring me back some," Harry called after him wistfully. "On principle, I refuse to cook my own birthday breakfast."

"Yeah, if I ever managed to sludge my way out of the Phlegm at the Burrow."

Once Ron had left, still muttering darkly, Sirius burst out laughing. "Honestly, Harry, did you really think we were going to make you cook your own breakfast?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at his godfather suspiciously. "You're evil. That was an incredibly underhanded way to get rid of Ron."

Sirius shrugged. "Molly's a scary person. She wanted Ron home to help out."

* * *

"Tell Bill and Fleur congratulations from me," Sirius ordered as Harry grumbled and yanked at the collar of his dress robes. "And don't pull at your collar like that, you're going to rip it."

"Yes, _Hermione_," Harry growled irritably. All morning, both Remus and Sirius had been pestering him about being careful at the wedding: Sirius obviously couldn't go, still being a hunted man, and it wasn't safe for Remus or Tonks to go, since the Ministry's crackdown on werewolves, and despite their adamant protests to the contrary, Harry had the distinct idea that neither Sirius nor Remus were particularly pleased with him going by himself.

Honestly, as though they didn't all agree that he was a big boy and could handle himself, as though they didn't all agree that he knew more about taking care of himself than half the adults in the world, as though they didn't all know he was at the Burrow, surrounded by other Order members...

"Be – " Remus started to say, when Harry cut him off.

"You tell me to be careful one more time and I am going to hex you," he threatened. "Honestly, I'm 17! I can handle myself perfectly well at a damn wedding."

"I'm just saying," Remus protested, when Tonks put a warning hand on his arm.

"Enough, both of you," she said quietly. "Harry's right. He'll be fine, and if anything does happen, he knows how to handle himself. Worse comes to worse, half the Order will be there."

"Thank you!" Harry exclaimed. "You are now my favourite person 'round here."

Tonks grinned at him. "I live to please."

* * *

"Harry!" Ginny and Hermione both shrieked as Harry Apparated into the Burrow.

Harry laughed and let the two girls throw their arms around his neck and kiss his cheeks. "Good to see you guys, too, Hermione, Ginny. How's everything running so far?"

"As smoothly as can be expected when Fred and George are around," Ginny laughed. "Harry, is Ron telling the truth? Are Lupin and Tonks _actually_ married?"

"Yeah, they've been married for, like, a month," Harry said with a grin. "Remus didn't want a huge fuss and bother about it, given the Ministry's stance on werewolves lately and the Death-Eaters being so active. Figured it was probably safer for Tonks all around if it wasn't widespread knowledge she was marrying a werewolf. Mind, Sirius caused enough ruckus 'round Grimmauld Place about it to make up for the lack of public festivities. What, don't your parents and Bill and Fred and George tell you lot _anything_ about what's going on?"

"_You_ could've told us!" Ginny exclaimed indignantly.

"Harry, is Ron telling the truth about _everything_?" Hermione butted in.

"Why, what else did he tell you?" Harry asked.

"Is Tonks _actually_ having a baby?" Hermione and Ginny both demanded impatiently.

"Yes."

Both girls burst out into delighted squeals. "When?" Ginny asked excitedly. "Whenwhenwhenwhen?"

Harry shrugged as they both started pulling him towards the house, peppering him with eager questions. "I dunno, spring, I guess."

"What do you mean, _you don't know_?" Hermione exclaimed. "You _must_ know, Harry, you're our only link to anything happening around there!"

"I don't know, Hermione, and quite frankly, I don't really want to know." Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, isn't your mother about to go mad for help?" he asked Ginny.

"My mother's been going mad for the last two years," Ginny said darkly. "You'll regret coming."

* * *

Harry hadn't really realized just how much he'd come to enjoy the relative solitude of Grimmauld Place until it was 10 at night and the reception was packed with people.

"Harry!" came the call of Dumbledore over the crowds as he strode through them effortlessly. "Harry, a word, if I may?" he asked. "You _are_ here by yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah, nobody else could come," Harry said, following his former headmaster away from the crowds with a certain degree of relief. "What's this about, sir?"

"I'm afraid we didn't get much of a chance to discuss the meaning of that prophecy when I first divulged it to you, between Sirius and Remus," Dumbledore said seriously, looking over the top of his glasses at Harry.

"I, I got what it meant," Harry muttered. "It's me or him."

"You understand, of course, then, why it is so vitally important that you keep up with your training," Dumbledore said. "Do not underestimate the power of instruction combined with the strongest power: that of love." He smiled benevolently when Harry sent him a confused frown. "Oh, yes, Harry, you can have all the power in the world and yet be as weak as a newborn if you don't have love. Just look at Voldemort."

"I wouldn't exactly call him weak..." Harry muttered.

"Ah, yes, Harry, but you see, it is precisely that which will be the end of him, mark my words. _He_ believes he is strong as well, but when confronted with love, he doesn't know what to do." Dumbledore paused for a moment, stroking his beard. "Yes, Harry, yes, he is weak behind the powerful mask. Alone, friendless, no family, nothing and nobody that he trusts. Yes, he is weaker than a newborn. Even an infant knows instinctively to trust its mother and father..." He paused again, a crooked smile making its way onto his face. "Speaking of which," he added, eyes twinkling. "Do pass along my congratulations to Remus and Nymphadora. I'm afraid I won't be present at the next meeting to give it to them myself."

"God, how fast does news travel 'round here?" Harry muttered. "_I_ only found out two days ago and seems like the entire _country_ knows now."

"Harry, Harry, come dance with me," Ginny pleaded as she appeared at his elbow. "Fleur's cousin – you know, that huge, spotty bloke? – is eying me and it's rather disturbing." She stopped. "Oh, sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Quite understandable, Ginny, quite all right," Dumbledore assured her. "Harry and I were done at any rate."

"Please, Harry?" Ginny begged.

"All right, all right," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. "I should probably warn you, though, that I'm not exactly a top-notch dancer."

"Oh, that's fine, I don't care, I just don't want that Richard or whatever his name is to come over and ask me to dance, because then I have to be polite and say yes and..."

"You're jabbering, Ginny," Harry said with a slight laugh, putting a light hand on her back to guide her out onto the dance floor.

"Oh, am I? Sorry, I get that way when I'm nervous," she apologized, then went furiously red in the face. "I mean, this whole wedding thing has gotten me all tongue-tied and I hated everybody looking at me today, standing up there..." Groaning, Ginny just dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "Oh, just kill me now."

Harry laughed again as he wrapped an arm around her waist lightly and closed the other hand around hers. "Don't look now, but Richard's looking pretty ticked off about me being here," he murmured, grinning as she looked up curiously from his shoulder.

"He does, doesn't he?" Ginny said happily. She looked up at him, smiling back. "Thank you, Harry," she said, going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek lightly. Richard-the-Rejected scowled at Harry, who smirked back at him.

"Any time, Ginny," he replied, returning the kiss with only the slightest hesitation. She gave him a delighted grin and snuggled back down comfortably in his arms.

"Snog her and die," came Charlie's threatening mutter from nearby.

"No threats to murder on my wedding day, man," Bill muttered under his breath to Charlie, passing by with Fleur, who was positively glowing. "We know where you live, Potter. You snog her and we will hunt you down."

* * *

Harry got back to Grimmauld Place long after the sun had set, opening the door only to find Tonks fast asleep between Remus' legs in the sitting room, her head resting back against his shoulder and her face buried into his neck. "Hey," he greeted softly.

"Hey yourself," Remus replied quietly, brushing back a stray lock of pink hair from his wife's face. "She was rather insistent that we stay up and wait for you," he explained with a roll of his eyes. "She wants every little detail about the wedding, the reception and everything before and after, so I hope you took good notes."

"And yet she's the one sleeping," Harry laughed, dropping into the armchair across from them.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Remus said dryly.

"So the party-boy is finally back," came Sirius' yawn from the staircase. "You learn anything new and exciting?"

"No. New travels fast, though. The following people would like me to tell you congratulations," he said to Remus. "Weasleys, Prewetts, Lovegoods, Longbottoms, and Dumbledore."

"How the hell do _they_ all know?" Sirius asked, dropping onto the couch without a second thought and succeeding in making Tonks stir.

Remus sent a glare in Sirius' direction. "I expect a little redheaded bird told them," he said, resettling Tonks against him. "Don't wake her."

Harry half-listened to Sirius and Remus' light-hearted arguments, thinking about what Dumbledore had told him. If he had a destiny to fulfill, he could think of nobody he preferred over these two to help him – except perhaps Ron and Hermione.


	11. Seventh Year

**Chapter 10: Seventh Year**

"I really wish you could come back with us," Hermione said in disappointment as she looked at Harry. "I _had_ hoped when Dumbledore pulled you out at the wedding..."

"Honestly, Hermione?" Harry replied quietly, arm wrapped lightly around Ginny's shoulder as she laid her head down on his shoulder. "I like it better here."

"Right about now, I'd kick m'self out of school if I could come here and get taught," Ron sighed, folding his arms back behind his head. "But no, I'd only get slaughtered by my mother."

"You promise you'll keep us updated on _everything_?" Ginny asked.

"'Everything' meaning 'the baby'?" Harry asked with a slight smile. "Yeah, sure."

"More than 'sure', Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, smacking his leg indignantly. "Honestly, Sirius has been such a bad influence on you! I want an 'Absolutely, Ginny, have no fear, I will write weekly updates.'"

"Absolutely, Ginny, have no fear, I will write regular updates," Harry said with a grin as she hit him again. "I don't know about weekly."

"Hey, we're out of here," Tonks said, poking her head into the sitting room. "See you next week, yeah?"

"See who?" Harry asked. "I thought you were still posted at Hogsmeade."

"I am," Tonks shrugged. "They came up with this novel idea about six centuries ago, they call it Apparition." She laughed and dodged the cushion being chucked at her. "Bye."

"Are we at all actually stepping foot over this threshold tonight, Dora?" Remus' call came from the front door.

"Honestly, Remus, you're so impatient..."

"Hey, you lot, your mum wants you home," Sirius announced, showing up amongst them.

"But we're talking to Harry!" Ron protested. "We head back to Hogwarts tomorrow, we won't get another chance until Christmastime!"

"Hey, man, I'm just the messenger," Sirius said with a grin. "I don't mess with mothers. They're scary people."

"What if you were to tell her that you can't find us?" Ginny offered hopefully.

"I'm trying not to envision the horrors she'll unleash," Sirius laughed. "Go on, then, you three have a train to catch tomorrow morning and you," he added to Harry, "are starting the day off with that most wonderful subject of all: Potions."

"Hey, I like it a whole lot more now that Snape isn't the one teaching it," Harry protested when Ron and Ginny both let out simultaneous groans of sympathy.

* * *

"Hey, Sirius," Harry asked one crisp late autumn afternoon as they were finishing another day's work. "You know the prophecy?"

"I'm not discussing the prophecy with you until June, Harry," Sirius said sharply. "Finish school first and then we'll talk heroics."

Momentarily taken aback by the severity in Sirius' voice, Harry shut up. That was the closest to an actual parental reprimand he had ever gotten from Sirius.

"C'mon, let's stuff this junk away somewhere," Sirius relented, tousling Harry's hair affectionately. "Tonks is coming over for dinner tonight. Apparently she's pining for a certain sometimes-furry comrade of mine and wants company."

"You mussed my hair," Harry said, gladly putting away the books and parchments. "How old do you think I am?"

"Four," Sirius replied cheerfully. "Don't worry, when Little Lupin arrives, he can be the one to have his hair mussed." He looked up as the front door opened. "Ah, there's our beloved Moony's girl now."

"You know, it _is_ the 20th century, I don't need to be referred to as a possession," Tonks grumbled as she stalked into the house. Sighing impatiently, she dropped her long jacket onto an empty armchair and sat down on the couch.

"Wow, what's your problem today?" Harry asked interestedly.

Tonks glowered at him. "Clearly, my jacket doesn't sit right anymore." She waved her hand at the offending article on the armchair. "Who came up with the brilliant idea of pregnancy?"

"Wait, wait, so _I'm_ being ripped apart because _your_ jacket doesn't fit through no fault of my own?" Sirius demanded.

"Yes."

"All right, just so I'm perfectly clear on where the blame lies, though, whose fault is it again?"

"It's Remus' fault, but I can't exactly yell at him now, so I'm going to yell at you, because you're the closest I have to him." She sighed again. "It's no fun to yell at Remus anyway. He just nods and goes along with it, and I want a sparring match."

"Oh, my dear cousin, I can spar with the best of them," Sirius grinned, making a mock bow in her direction.

"Good."

* * *

They were still happily arguing well into the evening hours when the front door opened again and Remus walked in. It was obviously he'd just returned from the colonies – scratches on his face and arms, tears in his robes and dirt in his hair, a slightly feral look to him.

"Hey, Harry, have you seen Dora around?" he asked, a twinge of worry in his voice. "She's not at home."

"Follow the voices," Harry replied, pausing in his Transfiguration practice. "She's having a sparring match with Sirius."

"Why?" Remus asked warily.

"I dunno, her jacket doesn't fit or something," he said, getting up from his chair and pocketing his wand.

"Not that one, I hope," Remus sighed, gesturing to the abandoned jacket.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Damn. That's her favourite jacket. If it doesn't fit anymore, I'll have hell to pay." He smiled when Tonks appeared in the doorway and let her wrap her arms around his neck, kissing her lightly. "I hear your jacket doesn't fit."

"Okay, you're going to shower and shave before I have any sort of conversation with you," she chided, releasing him. "You have that wild look about you. You'd think you'd just spent three months among the werewolves." Remus rolled his eyes and shook his head, heading for the stairs.

"Spare robes are in the second drawer," Sirius called after him. Remus waved a hand in recognition.

* * *

Christmas came before anybody had realized that the snow had fallen outside Grimmauld Place. The week before Christmas brought the Weasleys and Hermione home from Hogwarts and into Grimmauld Place, causing great elation.

"Hermione, seriously, it's Christmas, can't you stop studying for a week?" Ron said in exasperation, trying to tug Hermione's Arithmancy textbook out from her hands. "You're absolutely _mental_."

Harry hid the smirk behind his Charms textbook when Hermione whirled back around at Ron and snapped, "Well, if _you_ would bother at all to even open your textbooks, you might not be in such dire straits for _your_ NEWTS, Ronald Weasley!"

"It's Christmas break!" Ron said indignantly. "Why would I study on _Christmas break_? It's unnatural, Hermione, for anybody but you. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Sorry?" Harry asked innocently, looking up.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed in a scandalized tone. "What are you doing?"

"My Charms," Harry replied.

"Good, I want that paper tomorrow morning before I leave," Remus said with a smile as he passed. "Are you guys coming for dinner or what?"

"Where's Tonks?" Hermione asked, setting down her Arithmancy as Harry did likewise with his Charms.

"At the Ministry, she had an overtime shift tonight," Remus replied. "Should be back fairly soon, though. Robards has been letting her off early lately."

"Why?" Ginny asked curiously. "Just because she's pregnant?"

"Nah, I think he's just been ordered by Scrimgeour to not have the werewolf's wife hanging around any longer than necessary," he answered, his voice casual with a tense undertone.

"Because the world according to Remus Lupin revolves around him," Sirius said semi-jokingly as the four teens came into the kitchen. "Not everything has to be about you, Remus."

"Hello?" Tonks called as the front door banged open. "Anybody else around besides the two prisoners?"

"Hardly prisoners, Tonks m'dear!" Sirius called back cheerfully, though there was a slight forced tone to it. "We can leave whenever we want, we stay here of our own volition!"

"You didn't answer my question, cousin dearest," Tonks repeated, appearing in the doorway looking haggard, her robes rumpled and hair (a light fawn) tousled. "Oh. Look at that, it's actually a party tonight. And then there's me, looking like death," she added ruefully. "Nice to see you guys back again, Ron, Ginny, Hermione. You staying over here, or…"

"Planning on it," Ron replied.

"How long were you working tonight?" Hermione asked curiously. "You look like you've worked for the last three days straight."

"Thanks, makes a girl feel really good about herself, Hermione," Tonks said dryly.

"I brought a change of clothes for you, they're upstairs in the spare," Remus said obligingly as she turned her look to him expectantly.

"Excellent. I'll be back half hour or so," Tonks said, brightening immediately as she delivered a swift kiss to his cheek and disappeared upstairs.

Sirius rolled his eyes. Remus grinned and laughed, "Rule number 73: Always bring a change of clothes."

"What rules are these?" Harry asked. "And where can I find them?"

"Messrs Padfoot and Moony are proud to present," Remus began.

"_The Marauder's Guide to Marriage Survival_, as compiled by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin after watching poor hapless James Potter make all the mistakes," Sirius said with a grin and a bow.

* * *

"Scrimgeour's getting antsy," Tonks reported at dinner, as the group was happily digging into the meal. "Apparently Umbridge has been hassling him about lenient laws."

Sirius and Remus both looked up. "You don't think Scrimgeour'd actually listen to that beast, do you?" Remus asked uneasily. "That's the sort of thing Fudge would've done."

"Along with throwing people into Azkaban without trials," Sirius added darkly.

"I don't know what exactly is going on, but he and Umbridge and Robards were in pretty deep discussion when I left this evening," Tonks said.

"Well, anywhere Umbridge is guaranteed trouble," Ron muttered.

"Sounds like Umbridge plans on passing the anti-Muggleborn educational decree by Easter," Hermione spoke up quietly. "I overheard her meeting with Scrimgeour a fortnight ago."

"She's calling it something different though, isn't she?" Harry asked, looking at Tonks momentarily. "Nobody in their right mind would try to pass a law called the 'Anti-Muggleborn' law. It's insane."

"It's Educational Decree number 361," Ginny said wryly. "Number 360 was that every witch and wizard of school age is obligated to attend Hogwarts."

Harry laughed with Sirius.

"Definitely broke that one into smithereens, I'm thinking," Sirius snickered.

"Well, they chucked me out, didn't they?" Harry laughed.

_

* * *

_

March 31, 1998:

"Umbridge and Scrimgeour have passed the revised werewolf legislation through the Wizengamot," Kingsley reported grimly as he entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. The rest of the Order had gathered a half hour before to begin their meeting. "Just ten minutes ago."

"How severe?" Moody asked gruffly, as the group all cast wary glances at each other, Remus' hand tightening around Tonks'.

Kingsley sighed heavily as he sat down, looking at Remus and Tonks. "Loosely translated: You see one, shoot it and anybody else in a five-foot radius. Takes effect immediately."

Remus and Sirius exchanged a worried look. "Okay," Remus sighed. "This complicates matters…"

* * *

"Remus," Tonks started to protest as he was heading for the fireplace. "Remus, you heard Kingsley…"

"I promise, I'll be careful," Remus said, landing a quick peck to her cheek. "We'll be back within a few hours. Harry, I thought we'd agreed you weren't coming with Sirius and I…"

"_We_ didn't agree to anything," Harry replied, stopping in front of him. "You and Sirius decided that. And you both forgot that I'm of age and I can go anywhere the hell I please."

"Kid _does_ have a point, Moony," Sirius pointed out from beside the fireplace. "We can't really _stop_ him…"

Remus sighed. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

"There's something _wrong_ with this picture," Tonks complained grouchily as she dropped back down to the couch. "I'm the Auror and yet I'm the one being left behind."

* * *

"Damn!" Remus burst out angrily as the three men caught glimpse of flames licking the sky in the distance. "Damn them all!"

"Shut up, Moony," Sirius said tightly, yanking Remus down the ground behind the tangled brush. "There's still someone there."

Harry carefully raised himself up and tried to spot the faces of the people destroying the Lupin house, anger bubbling away inside himself. All of Remus and Tonks' worldly possessions, all of their careful preparations for the baby… all going up in smoke.

"Get down, you idiot!" Sirius hissed, pulling him back down. "Merlin, why am I the only sensible one?"

Remus was still biting back the curses, biting his lip so hard it was threatening to break open. Sirius gripped his arm silently. "C'mon, let's go," he finally said tightly. "There's no use in staying – "

Harry stifled a yell of surprise as something brushed against his arm. Whirling around, he saw a cat creeping from the shadows, its golden eyes intent on them and its reddish fur matted with dirt and soot. It let out a cautious mewl as it leapt gracefully over Harry's arms, climbed over Sirius' shoulders and settled down between Remus' arms, purring contentedly.

"Damn Fox…" Remus muttered. When Sirius and Harry both looked at him questioningly, he said with a roll of his eyes, "Dora's cat. Had the damn thing forever. I can't stand it, but for some reason, it loves me."

"Oh, so _this_ is the kitten Ted and Andromeda were buying," Sirius said in surprise. "Ran into them at the Menagerie the day they bought it for Tonks. C'mon, before somebody decides to come looking."

* * *

"Fox!" Tonks exclaimed in delight, taking the dirty creature from Remus' arms. "So you ran off, did you?"

"The mangy thing just about gave us our deaths of fright," Remus grumbled good-naturedly. "Came creeping up on us."

"That wasn't a very nice thing to say about him," Tonks said, glowering at her husband. "Come on, Fox, let's get you cleaned up." With that, she whirled around and stalked back upstairs.

Remus grumbled under his breath again as Sirius laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nice to know where you stand, mate."

"One step below the cat," Harry agreed with a snicker.

"Mangy beast…" Remus muttered. "Yowls through the night, sheds all over the house, insists on butting at my ankles day and night…"

"Well, in the immortal words of Hagrid, who knows better than anyone else on this topic," Harry said, barely restraining the howls of laughter, "'People can be a bit stupid about their pets'. And girls are worse with their cats than anybody else." He looked up when Hedwig came winging down, landing on his shoulder. "Hey, girl. What, did the cat try to eat you?" Hedwig gave him a reproachful look and clicked her beak expectantly. Laughing, Harry went to get some Owl Treats out of the kitchen and returned with a small handful, which Hedwig was happily snapping up.

"It would be nothing like boys and their owls, would it?" Remus commented dryly.

"No, not at all," Harry replied easily, stroking Hedwig's front gently. "Completely different."

_

* * *

_

April 2, 1998

"What the hell…" Harry groaned as he heard Tonks ripping into somebody. Groping for his glasses on the bedside table, there was a startled and reprimanding yowl from Fox, whom it seemed had taken a liking to the dark little space between Harry's table and his pillow. "Oh, shut up, you stupid cat. Go away, go bother somebody who _likes_ you." Blinking blearily at his watch, he moaned and shoved his pillow over his head. "Seriously, Tonks, it's 2 bloody AM…"

Fox meowed insistently in his ear, batting his paw against Harry's pillow. Harry growled drowsily and swatted the cat off his bed. Fox jumped right back up and proceeded to march up his side painfully, meowing again loudly.

"Gerroff, you stupid creature!" Harry howled in frustration, throwing him off.

"Oh, good, the cat woke you too, did it?" came Sirius' dry voice. "Pounced on Remus about an hour ago, bothering him until both he and Tonks woke up." He grinned rather halfheartedly at his godson. "I didn't know cats could fly until an hour ago."

"What's going on?" Harry asked with a yawn.

Sirius sighed and dropped down to the foot of Harry's bed. "Andromeda's just arrived with some bad news. Apparently when the torchers from Remus' place realized that they hadn't actually killed anybody, they went to Ted and Andromeda's place looking for them."

Harry stared at Sirius. "Oh, no."

"Andromeda just barely managed to escape, she doesn't think anybody followed her. She went to Dumbledore first, that's how she could get in here. So we have another houseguest. Actually, two in another few hours, I would guess."

Harry stared at him blankly.

"The screaming you hear?" Sirius said with a wry grin. "That's Tonks in labour, ripping Remus' head off."

"Is there a rule for that?" Harry asked with a slight laugh.

"Sure is. Three, in fact. Rule number 102: Never negotiate with a woman in labour. Rule number 103: Try not to be within reach of her fists, her wand or her feet, because she _will_ kill you. Rule number 104: The only thing you say in the labour room is 'Yes, love'."

Harry laughed. "Did my dad ever beat you up for poking fun at him with these rules?"

"Many times. And then he laid claim on 30 percent of the royalties." Sirius looked up when a very frantic-looking Remus appeared in the doorway.

"Sirius…"

"I'm talking with this lot," Sirius replied cheerfully, rubbing Fox's ears as he jumped up onto Sirius' lap. "Go on. Remember number 105."

Remus moaned. "I've already broken 102 through 104 in the last hour…" And he disappeared downstairs again as Sirius burst out laughing.

"What's 105?" Harry asked.

"Rule number 105: If she can't leave, you can't leave."

* * *

By the time Sirius and Harry had deemed it safe to return downstairs, Tonks was actually fast asleep on the couch, tucked snugly beneath a couple of blankets (no doubt courtesy of Remus) and Andromeda was sleeping on another couch not far away, her cloak thrown over her as a makeshift blanket.

"Hey," Remus greeted as he looked up momentarily from the tiny bundle of blue in his arms. "I'd forgotten how small they are," he admitted to Sirius, carefully handing him the baby.

"Oh, yeah, just a titch of a thing, isn't he?" Sirius agreed, wincing slightly when the baby stirred and let out a wavering cry. "All right, so we don't like Sirius. There you are, back to Daddy, then."


	12. Epilogue: Venturing Into The Unknown

**Epilogue: Venturing Into the Unknown**

"Seriously, Harry, it was the weirdest thing," Ron laughed as the four friends sat in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place. Ginny was happily snuggled against Harry's side, playing peek-a-boo with 4-month-old Teddy, whom Harry had nestled into the other arm securely. Teddy seemed more than delighted to have even more attention (as if he didn't already have every other person in Grimmauld Place wrapped around his tiny fingers), laughing as he grabbed Harry's finger.

"I didn't think graduation was supposed to be weird, Ron," Harry said with a grin. Teddy let out a squeal of indignation when Ginny finished their game, and Harry paused momentarily. "Hey, what's your problem?" he asked the baby. Teddy just squealed again, eyes sparkling, and he laughed. "You'd better quiet down, or your mum's going to come rampaging in here and put you back to bed."

Tonks' voice came echoing indignantly from upstairs. "Which one of you three baby-snatching marauders took Teddy?!"

Harry sprang into action (almost, Hermione noted to herself, as though the play was practiced) immediately at the call. "Ron, pass me the blanket there." He lifted Teddy up and settled him comfortably against his shoulder.

"Why?" Ron asked suspiciously, passing Harry the requested article.

"So I can at least pretend to be letting him sleep," Harry replied, quickly tossing the blanket over the baby, who nestled down obligingly. "Yeah, that's a kid," he said with a laugh just as Remus came in. "We train you well."

"She's going to kill one of us one of these days," he commented, dropping into the empty spot on the other side of Harry. "Give him to me."

Reluctantly, Harry passed the dozing infant over. "Hey, better you than me."

"Oh, she won't rip into me," Remus said with confidence. "I fixed her jacket."

***

"You sure about this, Harry?" Sirius asked softly as he watched his godson put the last of the clothes into his bag. "I mean, you don't need to do it this way. You can – "

"Sirius, if I'm going to be coming and going all the time from here, the safety is going to be compromised," Harry replied quietly. "It's safer for everybody involved if I'm elsewhere. Especially with the – "

"Don't you dare talk about that damn prophecy," Sirius warned. "You heard Dumbledore. They don't always happen."

"Funny, I heard him say it was going to happen whether I like it or not, because Voldemort was stupid enough to listen to it." Harry closed his bag and stood up. "Listen, Sirius, I'll be fine. I had a good teacher," he added with a grin. "I just have to go save the world again. Be home by Christmas."

Sirius shook his head, a brief chuckle escaping. "You'd better be."

_**

* * *

**_

To be continued…


End file.
